Rizzolia & Ilia
by Reallybigpineapple
Summary: Pompeii AD 79. High society patrician Maura Ilia hates gladiatorial games. Despite this, her whole world changes when she crosses paths with a gladiatrix. AU, a little darker than my pirate story, but still very Rizzles.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

Maura Ilia forced herself to keep her eyes open and not close them like a defiant child. She hated gladiatorial games, she always had, it was why she couldn't enjoy Veneralia like the rest of Pompeii did. The games, which she was required to attend as a patrician lady, were so much bigger, so much louder and so much bloodier during these days. She tried not to, but she found herself cataloging the injuries. The deaths just made her lower her head. Her father had called the games barbaric, even though he had been in a minority in that regard and he was right, even if Maura Ilia sometimes wondered if barbaric was the right word. The poor unfortunate barbarians who took part sometimes seemed to conduct themselves more gracefully than the supposedly refined Romans shouting gutturally from the stands.

This day offered a particularly big spectacle. Noble women couldn't be seen getting drunk in public, otherwise that's exactly what she would have done.

There was a novelty act this time, that she suspected she would dislike particularly: female gladiators, gladiatrices. Apparently they were all the rage in some godforsaken part of the empire, which of course meant that they had to have gladiatrices in Pompeii too. God forbid they'd miss out on a fad in this shallow town... In a faux scandalised tone, one of the patrician women she was expected to consort with had whispered that they usually performed naked from the waist up, but that they'd have to be more modest in order to perform in the arena in broad daylight. Their _editor _had apparently been very disappointed at this. It seemed like these women were to be gawked at not only as they were fighting and bleeding, but also as if they were exotic dancers. Fortunately, they did not fight to the death today. Not even pleasure hungry Pompeii, the city that never turned down a new or extreme form of entertainment, demanded that. She assumed that there were not enough of them around to get rid of them as lightly as all that, they must be worth a lot of money. And this was just the first day of fighting, after all.

She steeled herself against hours of boredom and revulsion. She knew it was an important part of being Roman, paying tribute to the virtues of bravery and death defiance and its ceremonial significance. In her head, she sometimes recited the conventional reasons given for the games being necessary: a symbolic importance, staging the glorious victories of Rome and her enemies, extolling Roman virtues like fearlessness and bravery, as well as creating a bond between the citizens, associates and even slaves of this great nation, but somehow gladiatorial games made her feel significantly less Roman than usual... The fights to the death were the worst. The other she could somehow abide, but all death that wasn't necessary was by nature a waste and she didn't care if it was a barbarian or a Roman, had ceremonial significance or not. She sighed. This opinion, as well as many others, contributed to her being perceived as odd among her peers.

Apparently there was a star on display today, a gladiatrix people were especially eager to see. Travelling through the streets in her litter, she had seen a crudely drawn picture of a tall figure with a sea of black hair streaming behind it as it raised its sword. The advertisements called her unbeatable.

The first part of this new entertainment section wasn't too bad. Some of the female fighters were quite good, others were obviously selected for their looks, good or bad. The busty blonde who wielded a ridiculously short sword and spent most of her time smiling at the young patrician men was obviously not recruited for her skills, even if she had been trained well enough to defend herself. The huge Germanian, on the other hand... She towered over most men and looked like she might be carved out of granite. She was met with derogatory whistles and catcalls. It was obviously provocative to the men in the audience to see a woman who looked like she could take any of them out with a swipe of her sword. The tall, muscled gladiatrix stoically bowed to the audience after each win, ignoring the occasional jeers.  
This was just the entertainment block of the female section, the group melee was the warm-up before combat one on one. There had been no sign of the dark haired star of the show yet...

But the atmosphere changed. People were leaning forward in their seats, more focussed as the motley group of females left the arena. Only the huge Germanian remained.

The audience cheered loudly. A small figure emerged from the arena gates. Maura knew this must be her, she saw the cascade of black curls down her back, just like in the drawing. Long hair... The sign of a slave.  
She squinted as the dark woman slowly walked towards the middle of the arena, like she had all the time in the world, with a remarkable air of confidence, a swagger that was surprising in a woman about to fight an opponent who looked like she could crush her with her bare hands. She was tall, sure, but slender as a willow, her lean body looking disconcertingly fragile.

The audience cheered, but she ignored them. She stopped right in front of the women's stand, close enough for Maura Ilia to be surprised at how beautiful she was. Why was she in the arena? As revolting as it was, she could have fetched serious deniarii in any of the town's upscale brothels, even a seasoned rake would pay to hold that in his arms for a night. It seemed like a terrible investment to have her beaten to a pulp by this giant of a woman...

The was a signal for the fight to begin and the huge Germanian started to walk towards her with determined steps. Maura Ilia felt acid rise in her stomach. The star busied herself with picking at a, Maura Ilia suspected, entirely imaginary bit of fluff on her armour. As the Germanian approached, she suddenly broke into a light run. As the two got closer, she accelerated and the spectators could see that speed and agility was definitely on her side. Just before they clashed together, she leaped into the air and slammed the hilt of her sword into the massive neck of the Germanian woman, who was down on the ground, probably without knowing what had hit her. She snapped back round and in just a few seconds, she stood over the fallen giant with her boot clad foot and the edge of her sword against her neck. As she glanced up into the stands, Maura Ilia realised that speed and technique wasn't the only reason she was winning. She burned on the mighty fuel of fury, making her huge dark eyes gleam with the message that you did not want to challenge her will to survive.

She fought another opponent, but with the same result: a quick attack, an overwhelmed adversary who did not see that coming from such a fragile looking opponent and the match was over.

The audience was getting restless. They cheered her, but this was not the level of entertainment they had come to expect at Saturnalia. Maura found herself on edge hoping this noted the end of the champion's segment, but she had a sinking feeling it didn't.

A shocked murmur went through the crowd. There were no rules against male- female combat, especially since gladiatrixes were so rare, but it just wasn't done. Yet, there he was, a man, walking towards the winner, bicep bulging against his shoulder guard. He was dressed as a retiarius, a fisherman, with little body armour and a net and a trident. The gladiatrix was slightly better protected, apart from the fact that her chest was only barely covered by shaped hardened leather and her abdomen left bare, supposedly to titillate the spectator. If he got his trident into the area around her neck and sternum, she would almost certainly be badly wounded, even if this couldn't be a fight to the death, could it...?

She thought she saw a tensing of the shoulders in the handsome woman, but her stony face revealed nothing, as was expected of a gladiator.

They positioned themselves against each other. There were a few boos heard among the cheers, apparently she wasn't the only one upset by the unfairness of the fight.

They moved closer. The gladiatrixes speed wasn't so much to her advantage now that she had a long trident facing her. They clashed over and over, the gladiatrix dancing away from his weapon and managed to nick him with the edge of her sword repeatedly, despite the challenge of the trident, but Maura Ilia could see the sweat running down her back and her motions were becoming less light. She was tired... The clashes were heavier now, sometimes even skin to skin and a grappling with shields and retiarius seemed to be shocked by her prowess and possibly a little apprehensive about hurting a woman...? Maura Ilia saw blood being drawn and heard herself gasp against her will. He slashed at her a few more times, opening fresh wounds: she seemed too exhausted to block him successfully.  
But suddenly the gladiatrix reared her head and slashed her sword through the air, strangely aiming for the top of his head, nicking his forehead around the hairline, making a trickle of blood run down it. During the time it took him to shake the blood out of his eyes, the gladiatrix pushed him over and sliced something near the ground. Maura Ilia watched in wonder as he fell, one of his feet rendered useless. She realised that his adversary had cut his Achilles tendon: horribly painful and she could see the retiarius shaking as the gladiatrix stood over him and positioned her sword in the coup de gras position. She had probably harmed him as little as possible in order to win the fight. But he was very lucky he was fighting a woman,or he would be dead now, Maura Ilia was sure of it. The jeers from the audience were loud and cruel. Conquered by a woman... If this were to the death, she knew which way their thumbs would have turned.

The audience roared when the gladiatrix turned to the governor of Pompeii and received an official pardon with his thumb down. The star smiled tersely at him as he placed a laurel wreath on her head: a rare honour and probably rarer still for a woman. The formerly reluctant audience cheered loudly as she received her ceremonial sword.

"Show us yer tits, love!" someone shouted from the stands and was subsequently hushed by the bystanders on each side. The gladiatrix walked to stand before him and looked him in the eye. The man grew very quiet. As the dark haired star spat on the ground in front of him, to the approving or scandalised roar of the audience, Maura Ilia thought she might have an idea as to why this stunning woman had gone to the arena and not to a fancy pleasure house... She smiled to herself in the midst of this misery.

***

She covered her hair and shielded her face carefully with a shawl. She put the items she needed in a bag and asked a slave to follow her.

"Going out, domina?"

"Yes."

She volunteered no information. Crovius, her husband's scribe, had an air of superiority and more ominously of malice about him and she had never trusted him, with information or anything else.

As she approached the barracks for the second time that day, she thought about how she much preferred this visit, hidden by darkness and with a different errand than gawking at the misfortune of others. They knew her at the gates by now. The man leered a little when she put the money in his hand and made some vaguely suggestive comment, but Maura Ilia suspected that it was more out of habit than anything else, really. She made her request and even though he hinted that it should have cost her extra, he complied and took her to one of the small cells that housed the gladiators. Then she waited. She was getting worried that something had happened, when she heard tentative footsteps, with a slight limp, if she wasn't mistaken... The gladiatrix appeared.

Maura Ilia was just about to utter a greeting when she was interrupted.

"Really? You're the one who wanted to see me?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Thought there would be some nasty old man waiting for me. You're beautiful... A woman. Guess I didn't expect that.."

"Thank you." Maura Ilia said formally. "I know it's rare, but don't let my appearance and sex dissuade you, I promise you that I'm quite good at what I do."

"I don't really care, it's your money. It's a relief compared to what I imagined. You're very clean... I'm afraid I'm going to get you all dirty. But maybe that's what you're into, I hear we get a lot of exotic tastes... "

Maura Ilia found that she wasn't quite following the gladiatrix reasoning. Of course this work sometimes made her dirty, but she wasn't sure that qualified as an exotic taste? It was more a slightly unpleasant side effect?

"Guess I shouldn't be talking so much, you're probably into the strong silent type, since you've come here..."

She was even more confused now: why would would it be a bad thing if her patients were talkative? Might even help her treat them, determine what was wrong?

"It's alright, I don't mind...?"

"Great. I've never actually done this before, I'm a bit nervous, to be honest."

Hadn't done what? Seen a doctor...?

"You're Greek?"

"Yes..."

A hint of smile ghosted over the dark haired woman's face.

"You're strange. People usually don't care where a gladiator comes from, as long as we are ready to die."

"So I've been told. Frequently." Maura llia smiled a mirthless smile. She heard that her tone was slightly acerbic, but she had not expected judgement from this source of all sources... "Perhaps you'd like to switch to Greek?" She relished the opportunity to practise, she hadn't had much use for her Greek since she left Rome.

The gladiatrix looked surprised: "You're accent is perfect... Who taught you?"

"My father was an unconventional man, I had a tutor as a child."

The slave's own accent wasn't as rough as she had expected. Interesting...

"So... How do you want me? Armour on or off?"

"I need you to at least take enough off to give me free access."

"OK... You're very direct... Guess that's a good thing, since I'm new at this."

The gladiatrix started to work on removing the straps of her protective leather armour and let it fall to the ground. Maura Ilia appraised the smaller injuries as they appeared one by one. There was a nasty looking cut on her right shoulder and one on her abdomen, even though she suspected that that one looked worse than it was.  
She winced when she saw her ankle, the reason for the limp. It was swollen and bruised, with a deep puncture wound that looked like it might be trouble. There was still a little blood trickling down to the ground. And her nose was almost certainly broken.

The gladiatrix was down to her underwear now and Maura Ilia studied with interest how her body didn't have an ounce of body fat, not even a hint of softness beneath the lean rippling muscles that talked about a strength beyond what her fine limbs suggested. She hadn't ever seen a female body subjected to this level of physical strain and rigorous training before, it was fascinating. The gladiatrix should have been too thin and gaunt to be attractive, but there was something about the combination of strength and character with the obviously feminine shapes of her body that was oddly appealing. And her face... It could sink a thousand ships.

"Right. Maybe you'd better sit down on your bunk so I can start."

The greek woman smirked in a way that Maura Ilia didn't quite understand...

"Yeah, that makes sense..."

Her tone was almost teasing.

She gestured to her underwear.

"On or off?"

"Oh I don't think we'll need to take those off."

Her patient looked quizzically at her but followed her orders and sat down on the narrow bunk.

She leaned over her, to look at the wound on her shoulder and froze as the gladiatrix hand cupped her neck and pulled her closer. As her lips brushed across Maura Ilias, she almost jumped out of her skin and backed away.

"Sorry... Was that the wrong way to start? You want to skip the kissing bit and go straight for the... You know... rest?"

Trying to remain calm, Maura Ilia took a deep breath.

"You think I came here to for sex?"

The gladiatrixes face fell.

"Oh my gods, you didn't? Kill me..."

She put her pretty face in her hands and groaned.

This was another first. Maura Ilia had never seen a victorious gladiator blush before... Even the tips of her ears were red.

She patted her uninjured shoulder supportively.

"It's perfectly understandable. I've heard what they say about Celadus and some of the welborn ladies of this town. I do pay money to meet with gladiators, but not for sex. I'm trained in medicine and I like to keep my skills honed. As you can imagine, that kind of work is frowned upon for a woman, so I keep it secret by coming here. I work with the poor sometimes too."

The gladiatrix looked up at her.

"Would you excuse me while I go kill those gatekeepers, they said that you were..."

"A bored matron looking for a cheap thrill by sleeping with a gladiator?"

"They said you wanted me. I just assumed... I had heard stories about Pompeii."

"And they were probably all true. They were right, in a manner of speaking. Now bend over."

The gladiatrix looked at her with a smirk and one eyebrow raised.

Maura Ilia slapped her good shoulder with a faux scandalised expression.

"So I can look at your shoulder, get your mind out of the gutter!"

"Sorry, but as you can see, I live in the gutter."

As she worked on her wounds, she could see the trust in the gladiatrixes eyes: it made her all calm inside.

"You think you bump this out for me?"

The slave pointed to her broken nose.

"OK, this is going to hurt a little..."

The crack when she adjusted the cartilage was audible.

"Ow! A little!?"

Maura Ilia smiled. She was beginning to suspect that the gladiatrix grumbled to amuse herself...

She put the herbal antiseptic to the seeping wound on her ankle. Before, the slave had been mostly unperturbed by what must have been a quite painful cleaning and binding of her multiple wounds, but she became visibly pale and took a deep, shaky breath at the painful burning sensation.

"There. All done." she said softly and patted her knee gently.

The gladiatrix went over and fetched an amphora of wine and poured it into clay cups.

"Thank you..."

Maura Ilia steeled herself against what she assumed would be a horrible wine of questionable vintage, but she couldn't very well let that on.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She took a sip and looked at the greek woman with a delighted look on her face.

"This is a Pompeiian first growth! It's sensational..."

The gladiatrix shrugged.

"It was a gift from a fan. I don't really know wine."

She took a sip and her eyes went wide.

"Wow... This is GOOD."

She quickly drained her cup and poured another one.

"How much?"

"Oh, about 7 denarii, I guess?"

"Per amfora?"

"Per cup..."

Her patient put the drinking vessel down with a wary look on her face.

"Who gives wine like that to a gladiator...?"

"Someone who thinks you fought one hell of a fight today, obviously."

She had no clue what the proper etiquette was while talking to a gladiator, but her curiosity demanded that she at least asked the question.

"How did you end up here?"

The gladiatrix smiled a smile that was at the same time bitter and wistful.

"Same old story, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was supposed to be sold to a brothel. That's what they told me anyway. There was talk of me being given as a present to some rich business partner of the lanista. But apparently I had too much of a temper. Not complacent enough..."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Maura Ilia smiled at the gladiatrix with a sarcastically raised eyebrow. She returned it with a cocky grin and took another swig of wine.

"So I was transferred to the gladiators instead. Guess I didn't know that could happen to a woman."

Maura Ilia reached out and brushed her scarred hand with the tips of her fingers. She knew that the gladiatrix was an extraordinary survivor, stronger than almost anyone she had met. But she couldn't help wanting to offer her comfort all the same.

"At least I make more money than a whore. And this line of work gets you some really high class clients... )"

She smiled a crooked, faux flirty smile and batted her eyelashes at Maura Ilia.

"I am not your client, I'm your doctor, thank you very much!"

"Well, you did manage to get me to undress for you, not many people succeed with that."

"Very well, I'll regard this a successful conquest then."

Behind her light hearted smile, Maura Ilia's brain surprised her by thinking that being intimate on the narrow bunk in this little cell might not have been an unpleasant experience, if that had actually been her errand... The gladiatrix looked at her with an inscrutable look on her face and there was a moment of... Something...?

The slave took another swig of her wine.

"You know what's funny? When I first realised I was being sent to the arena, I just wished for a quick death. But as soon as I touched the sand on the ground and heard the roar of the audience, that all changed. All I could think about was how I wanted to survive to show those bastards that it wasn't going to be that easy. And here I am. Never thought I would live through today. Tonight is my 45th fight. If I survive another 20 I'll have enough to buy my freedom, but not holding my breath. Carolus Hoitus has promised me a 'worthy opponent'. Guess that means someone who'll kill me, even if the fight isn't to the death. He's definitely not planning to set me free anytime soon."

She saw the shadow of sorrow ghost over Maura Ilia's face.

"Hey, don't worry, I can take care of myself, I might make it. I've had a good run so far."

"It's perverse and offensive. No one should be forced to do what you do."

"Yeah, well, that's true about a lot of things in life... How about you? Why do you get your hands dirty, you could just relax and enjoy being a trophy wife." she said, glancing down on the wedding ring on Maura Ilias finger.

"I hate it. I hate being idle, the making chit chat with socialites." She was surprised by her own honesty. Usually, she worked hard at reigning it in.

"I saw you at the gates, with a very fancy looking lady. The quaestors wife, I was told."

"I pay her. I can't be seen moving around on my own at this hour, it's not decent." Maura Ilia replied curtly. She liked this rough stranger and certainly was intrigued by her, but she still didn't feel comfortable flaunting her social shortcomings.

"You pay her...?"

"I don't have any friends in Pompeii. I came here to marry and the ladies of this town seem to find me odd. I can be quite socially awkward... The quaestor's wife is short of cash and not keen to announce it. I pay her and she keeps quiet about where I go, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The gladiator chuckled.

"Really?"

Maura smiled despite herself.

"What?"

"You're talking to me like we've known eachother forever. If this is awkward, I'd like to your skills."

"Would you, now?" Maura had no idea where that weird tone of voice had come from. Light and flirty. It was like someone else had talked. "Actually I have many skills."

"Do you , now..." the gladiator echoed and smirk teasingly at her.

"I do. Also, I must confess that I find you easier to talk to than the noblewomen in this conventional city."

"Well, I'm interesting."

"Yes, you are."

They put their wine cups together with a dull clang, before draining them in unison.

Half an hour later, Maura Ilia was enraptured by tales of gladiatorial combat. Her loathing of the phenomenon didn't lessen her interest, almost to the contrary.

"Then I had to chase this girl all the way to the end of the arena, where she tried to climb over the fence. But the audience pitied her, so she got to live. Now he collects trash from the stands when the audience has left. That was my first fight."

Maura Ilia laughed.

" I still can't believe I'm making small talk with a patrician lady over a Falernian or whatever it's called..."

"Falernian is from another district and the grapes are handled differently."

The gladiatrix rolled her eyes benevolently.

"Of course. How silly of me."

Maura Ilia laughed a again, at the absurdity of the situation.

"We should do this again sometime."

"Definitely."

The slave smiled warmly at her, before getting up.

"I have to go. If they find me here talking to you looking like I'm enjoying myself, there will be hell to pay."

She got up and turned to leave.

"Wait!"

The gladiator looked back over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Thank you..."

Her face was soft when she almost whispered the words.

Before leaving the room, she stopped again.

"I don't get why you don't have friends. You're lovely."

To her surprise, Maura felt tears well up, she barely managed to contain them.

"That's me, by the way..."

The gladiator pointed to a crude, but still surprisingly effective drawing on the wall. One female gladiator was thrusting a spear through the chest of another. Next to the first figure, a name was written. _Iania._

"Nice to meet you, Iania."

"Likewise, Maura Ilia."

Who would have thought it? In the gladiator pits of the arena, Maura Ilia had found her first friend in Pompeii, in the fiercest fighter in this game she loathed. The age of miracles was obviously not over yet.


	2. The man from Rome

As always, I am grateful to my beta, the lovely Crackinois who tells me when I'm being an idiot.

**Chapter 2:**

Maura Ilia acknowledged the strangeness of her excitement and elation as she checked her visage in the mirror. She was surprised by what she saw. This woman, with the rosy cheeks and the bright eyes, was that her? Did the involuntary smile belong to her?  
She was in a strange mood. She had been all week, since Veneralia began. She recognised it vaguely. Happiness... She was happy. She hadn't been happy since she came to Pompeii. Did she know or was she even willing to admit why nightly visits to a place that was for all intents and purposes a home for despair and suffering made her feel this way? Maybe not, but that didn't alter the fact that she liked the woman she saw in the uneven surface of the glass... It probably made her a strange bird, but she was used to that, so no matter.

She was off to see her friend. She smiled at herself again. She hadn't realised how lonely she had been until Iania came into her life. The gladiatrix was brash, rude, mostly uneducated (but not as much as she claimed) and could annoy Hades out of her. On the other hand, she was kind, fearlessly brave and the best listener she had ever encountered. And for some strange reason, she made her feel better about herself than anyone she had ever known.

She picked up the amfora she had chosen to bring tonight. It was one of the finest vintages of Garitius Farfilius's wine cellar, full bodied and honeyed in tone. She had no qualms about bringing it to the narrow cell of a gladiatrix and share it sitting side by side on her rickety bunk. She could almost hear the conversation beforehand, how Iania would keep calling it a Pompeiian even though Maura Ilia had pointed out to her that it was a Falernian multiple times and how she would see on her face how she savoured it even though she would claim to prefer the home trampled stuff they made in her hometown and that Roman wines were overpriced and overrated. She was looking forward to it.

She touched her lips and self consciously removed her hand when she caught herself doing it. Iania hadn't kissed her per se, it had just been a misunderstanding. But it had been a strange feeling, so soft and warm. And gentle, like the kisser spent her days doing something totally different than hurting other people in a cruel reenaction of combat. She found herself thinking about it all the time.

***

Iania looked at her shabby quarters and sighed. There was nothing she could do about them. They were bleak and tattered, plaster coming off the walls. The first time Maura Ilia had come in here, she had looked like a lone flower growing in a patch of thorny weeds, so terribly out of place in her neat ivory stola and stylish hair. Before her, Iania hadn't ever met someone that high up in societal hierarchy. The last thing in the world she had expected was to like her. Or no, that wasn't right. The last thing she had expected was for a patrician lady to like her. A lot, it seemed. Just thinking about it made her feel warm and alive with expectation. Dangerous in her situation. Even thinking about becoming attached to someone was ridiculous. And she had to tell Maura Ilia that the gladiator troupe of Carolus Hoitus was leaving in three day's time: she should be telling her not to come anymore. She sighed, she was getting ahead of herself. Tomorrow was the last day of fighting. She had to survive that before worrying about anything else. Maura Ilia didn't know that she was fighting, she hadn't had the heart to tell her, since she seemed to be genuinely worried about her welfare.  
Iania rarely saw Carolus Hoitus in person, none of them did, but he was the only thing that truly terrified her these days. He had made a brief appearance yesterday and there was something about the way he had smiled with an almost childish look of glee on his face, as he ran the dagger along her face and nicked her cheek, not deeply but symbolically to show that he owned her, that worried her. She hadn't moved a muscle as usual. But It was as if he delighted in some wonderful secret that only he knew. Maybe he had finally found that 'worthy opponent' he had been talking about and she would be dead by then anyway.

But the funny thing was that it was still not at the front of her mind. She kept glancing at her bunk, where she and Maura Ilia would sit, side by side sharing an amfora of wine, after she had tended to the other wounded that needed assistance. Where she had kissed her that first night, something that she had been surprisingly willing to do... In her mind, she kept reliving the sensation of her lips against her own, before she had pulled back abruptly. She chalked the memory up to being acutely deprived of physical contact and human skin. And Maura Ilia was so clean and soft. She smelled faintly of some subtle perfume... Sure, she had physical interactions with other gladiators, but swinging your sword at someone hardly counted as tender loving care. To the contrary, she avoided contact with the other gladiators as much as she could. She did not want to know the hopes and fears of people she might one day be forced to injure painfully. Or worse.

A male gladiator, a worn, world weary man called Gabriel, had offered her sex the other night, in a surprisingly polite manner, to give him credit. And she couldn't fault his reasoning: if they were going to die anyway, why not have some fun before they go? She had honestly considered it. But as she looked at him, she felt nothing. No need to touch his body, no desire to be close to him.

Now, when she closed her eyes and felt the ghost of Maura Ilia's lips on hers, she suddenly felt a heart wrenching desire to be held and touched. But she pushed it aside. Such things were not in the cards for the ones who are about to die.

***

Maura Ilia put an amfora of what was probably hideously expensive wine down on the dirt floor and sat herself daintily down on the edge of her bunk.

"Now, where were we?"

Iania smiled. Suddenly this musty little cell seemed almost cosy.

***

Pensively, Maura Ilia poured the gladiatrix another cup of wine. She suspected it would cause her grief to talk about it, but the question was begging to be asked:

"Iania... Why did they take you? There were no events in that part of Greece that would render slaves in quantity at the time you say you left...?"

The gladiatrix turned quiet and the frown on her forehead deepened. Maura Ilia was starting to think that she had upset her and she would refuse to answer, when she looked up at her with an intensity she hadn't seen before.

"I'll tell you if you promise to trust me? Trust that this is how it happened, no matter how it may sound?"

Maura Ilia nodded encouragingly.

"I trust you."

It wasn't even a was an awful liar, so it was comforting that she could say it truthfully. She already trusted this virtual stranger more than she did most people she had known all of her life.

"They simply took me. I'm not the only one, there have been others. There was a rumour I heard, that a man from Rome was seen in the streets and people disappeared. Not enough to cause a big stir, but occasionally. They came late at night and dragged me off. Apparently, some roman nobleman wanted a whore and I fitted the profile. If I had had higher social standing it would have been kidnapping, but who cares when the daughter of an aqueduct maintenance man disappears? And my husband was no one, he repaired carriages. The only people who misses the carriage repairman are people with broken carriages and there are other repairmen around. To be honest, I think they might have assumed that my husband had fled town, chased by one of the husbands of the many married women he bedded or tried to bed. That I had gone to live with relatives maybe, since if my husband was gone, I would no longer have a livelihood. I helped him manage the shop."

Her jaw was tightly clenched and Maura Ilia carefully extended her hand and put it on her knee, for comfort.

"Your husband is still in Greece?"

"They slit his throat when they took me. Held him up so I could see him bleed to death, as a warning of what happens if you resist... And I used to be so angry with him for trying to bed anything in a peplos... It was embarrassing and hurt the business. I used to shout at him and make him sleep in the shed when he came home reeking of some other woman. Now, I would give anything to have him call me babe, tell me I'm hot or make me another one of those ugly bears he used to carve for me when I made him sleep in the shed. I never loved him. My father knew his father and it was arranged that we would marry when we were little. But he wasn't so bad, maybe I should have just let him have his women and be happy he didn't beat me. I could have lived with that... face thing he did, I guess. Now he's dead and I'll never get the chance to tell him I thought he was OK. He deserved better and I should have told him."

The guilt was rolling off of her in waves when she talked about her husband and Maura Ilia felt a sudden surge of anger, this time aimed at the dead man, not only her kidnappers, for some reason. The anger was good, helpful. It staved off the tears...

"No, you shouldn't have. None of this is your fault in any way, not what happened to you and not your husband's death. A man who cheats on you is an idiot. You're kind, loyal and brave. And you're gorgeous, my friend. You deserved more, he was lucky. "

"Kind? You're calling a killer kind?"

"I strongly suspect that you are only less than kind when you're forced in that direction. You have been very kind to me."

"You're easy to be kind to."

Long ago, Maura Ilia had accepted that she preferred the company of a good scroll to that of a person and it had been clear that the feeling was mutual. She was used to causing consternation or annoyance at her failings to be a demure roman matron. Or a polite, blank smile that suggested that its owner neither comprehended her point, nor had any interest in doing so. Hearing Iania claim she encouraged kindness was confusing and moving at the same time.

"Iania... That's so sweet."

"Urgh, gross... Pass me the Pompeiian whatever, my cup is empty."

She knew that the gladiatrix knew it wasn't a Pompeian anything, she had made a point of telling her. But she liked her stubbornness, it was like they already had their own language, their own jokes.

"How come you started with all of this? The... healing thing? Medicine?"

Maura Ilia smiled and bent her head to conceal it. The big, bad gladiatrix had been caught being sweet and kind and was now changing the subject to avoid it happening again...

"I was painfully shy as a child. Spent a lot of time alone. My uncle had a favorite slave, a learned man with a very modern way of thinking. I spent most of my time with him. For some reason, both my father and my uncle thought it a good idea for me to have a tutor who could teach a little girl a lot of things that she had absolutely no use for in the married life that awaited her.

Maura Ilia had spoken without bitterness, but Iania could see plainly that this discrepancy was still a struggle she was trying to come to terms with.

"The slave, Tiro, was of the opinion that education is never wasted, regardless of what it will be used for in the end, so he brought me when he took care of the health of my uncle's other slaves. He thought it might improve my social skills if I assisted him."

"Did it?"

"You tell me. But it did teach me to heal the sick. And he used to claim we could speak for the dead."

"Speak for the dead? Is that some sort of magic I haven't heard of?"

"In a manner of speaking. Tiro had ways to tell whether someone had died of natural causes or not. I found it fascinating. Guess that made me a strange child..."

"Yeah, guess it did..."

But Iania said it without malice, as a mere statement of fact.

"What happened to Tiro?"

"He died shortly before I left Rome to move to Pompeii to get married. My uncle died early and left his entire estate to him and made him a free man. He died rich and well respected. But he claimed to his dying day that he missed being as useful as he was a slave. I used to find it strange. But I'm beginning to understand what he meant. An idle person is a terrible waste. I haven't exactly been feeling useful since I married."

"Hence the healing?"

Maura Ilia nodded. "Hence the healing."

"So... I'm gorgeous, huh?"

Iania batted her eyelashes and smiled.

Maura Ilia had been certain that that comment had slipped by unnoticed. She knew Iania didn't mean anything by it, the... flirting? If that was what this was...? It was just a natural continuation of their misunderstanding regarding who was doing whom a favour the first time they met. But it still made her feel caught in the act, somehow. She had, after all been spending a considerable amount of time considering Iana's appearance. And everything else about her too, for that matter...

"Well, yes... You have very symmetrical features and the ratios of classical sculpture shows that is what the human eye finds pleasing. A lot of your proportions are close to the ideal balance between extremities: Phidias worked according to the principle of symmetry in angles and planes and his theories suggest..."

She heard herself babbling. She heard herself more often than people assumed, but that didn't mean she didn't fall in the trap of doing it again.

Iania interrupted her.

"All that just to say that I look nice?"

"I wouldn't use the term 'nice' exactly..."

"Hades, woman... Pour me some more wine, this is going to be a long night."

It would if Maura Ilia had something to do with it, yes...

Several cups of wine and a few hours later, after constant bickering and laughing, the question that had been swimming through her subconscious made it to the surface.

"Do you know who they were, the one's who did it? Did you ever find the man from Rome?"

Iania let out a mirthless laugh.

"Unfortunately, I find him constantly. It was Carolus Hoitus, my lanista. Not hard to afford many slaves when you use a dagger and blood as your only payment."

Maura Ilia stared at her without even trying to conceal the horror written on her face.

Iania stroked her arm gently.

Maura Ilia let out a strangled laugh.

"What...?"

"Don't you think it's ironic that you're comforting me instead of the other way around?"

Iania smiled sadly.

"I guess... But don't worry, it's OK."

Maura Ilia cupped her cheek, far from caring if this was too intimate or not.

"It's pretty much the direct opposite of OK. I wish I could improve your life."

Iania leaned into her touch and smiled.

"You can."

"How?"

"Come here again tomorrow, bring another round of that fancy Pompeian stuff and sound like a scroll."

"Iania... We have talked about this. It's a Falernian, the Pompeian is a different colour, much lighter."

"A different colour? Really, how fascinating! Tell me more."

Iania grinned at her.

"Does mocking me help?"

"Honestly? A little."

Maura Ilia gave her a cold stare, but then chuckled against her will.

"Sorry..."

Iania shoved her affectionately and Maura Ilia shoved back. The mirth in the gladiatrix' eyes made them light up, even in this murky little place. Maura Ilia marveled once again at the warmth in them. She was dying to know how her new friend avoided losing hope, but she knew there had been enough question for one night, so she held back.

A few days ago, Iania would have answered the question with rage and thirst for revenge or possibly even habit. Even survival became a habit, a spontaneous response. But spending these last few nights with Maura Ilia, she strangely felt as if everything was bearable as long as she showed up to sit next to her as the night made the arena still and quiet, for once. Not that that's what she would have answered. You can't tell a virtual stranger that she makes your cursed life seem OK. Can you?

***  
The fourth day was the last day of the games. Maura Ilia felt an acute feeling of discomfort at not knowing if she would ever see Iania again after that night. They had become attached so quickly. Or at least she had become attached, she couldn't be sure how Iania felt... But there was something about the smile on her face when she came back... She had the intention to keep the conversation lighter this time, not talk about her past or make her sad. She wanted her memories to be good ones. Things so seldom go the way you plan...

When she arrived, there was a commotion at the gates. The guards tried to deny her access at first and it was only a hefty bribe that got her into the secret underbelly of the arena. One of them muttered something about "the body" and Maura Ilia had to tell herself that there was really no cause for the stab of panic in her gut or the paranoid thought that it might be Iania. These were gladiator barracks, it might have been any of the poor souls she had seen fighting earlier.

A man with a spear tried to hold her back as she hurriedly made her way towards the gladiatrix room, but she impatiently shoved a few denarii in his hand to keep him at bay. She didn't make it there, however. She found her crouched over a suspiciously lifeless form on the floor.

"What happened?"

"We don't know. He was injured in a fight, but none of us thought he was hurt bad enough to die from it..."

Iania turned to the male gladiator next to her, a despondent looking man.

"I don't think there's anything we can do, Gabriel. You go sleep, I promise I'll wait here until they come to take him away."

Gabriel nodded curtly and looked as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it and walked off, after throwing Maura Ilia a very strange look. Not surprising, she knew she was an anomaly here...

Iania made a gesture to put a worn sheet over the body, but Maura Ilia stopped her.

"What?"

"Just wait. I'll explain later."

"Are you going to do your 'speaking for the dead thing'?"

"Yes."

"Really? I was just joking..."

"Iania... This man did not die of his injuries from the fight, it was many hours ago, he would be cold to the touch by now. And do you see this?"

"Sure, he must have gotten that in the arena?"

"No, this is what Tiro called Medusa's necklace. These are strangle mark's made by human hands, you can see the ghost of them here."

Iania leaned forward and followed the line Maura Ilia's finger drew in the air above the bruising on the dead man's neck.

"Maybe. Are you sure?"

"These marks were left by someone who squeezed this man's throat long and hard. It takes 20-30 seconds. Like this: 'onemedusasnecklacetwomedusas necklacethreemedusasnecklace fourmedusasnecklace'"

Inia interrupted her by putting her hand softly on her arm. It was surprising to Maura Ilia, who had always been guided by words and theories rather than action, how effective touch suddenly seemed to be as a means of communication.

"I get it. It's awful. And more importantly, the audience would get bored, which absolutely cannot happen. Heracles balls, you think someone killed him?"

"Yes. Which might have caused the reddish brown stain behind him."

"Eh... You mean the _blood_?"

"We don't know for certain that it's blood. It could be something of similar colour."

"Trust me, it's blood. I've seen enough of it to know".

"It would be consistent with him bleeding from his nose after strangulation. But we can't know that for sure, of course."

"Of course..."

Maura Ilia glanced disapproving at her. But strangely, she seemed almost incapable at getting angry with Iania. When she studied her sharp featured profile as she leaned over her dead comrade in arms, instead, she felt fiercely protective. And afraid. She had no way of knowing who killed this man and why, which made it impossible for her to protect her new friend if that someone would go after her too.

"Poor bastard. He survives the arena and this is how he ends up."

Maura Ilia stroked Iania's shoulder soothingly. The gladiatrix' hand landed on her thigh and moved absentmindedly along it while scowling at the dead man. She felt it, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together effortlessly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the concerns for the dead man, was the thought of how much she would miss Iania's body heat next to her own.

Eventually, two weathered men, rippling with muscle, came and carried him off. Maura Ilia felt for Iania's hand and found it effortlessly. The two of them watched the fallen gladiator make his last journey. Maura Ilia could almost feel the anger and frustration in the hand she was holding.

"I brought wine. You could probably use a drink right now..?"

"Hades, yes. Please."

They returned to Iania's cell without any of the normal banter or sense of being able to shut the world out so it was just the two of them. The world had certainly caught up with them tonight.

"Do you have any idea who did it?"

"Would have sworn it was Hoitus in any other situation. But he's not here, he's been invited to a rich man's house. He took some of the gladiators with him, either for sex or to fight for entertainment, not sure. So it can't be him, the dead man was alive when he left. So honestly? No..."

Maura Ilia poured her another glass of wine.

"I'd like to stay the night."

Iania gave her a strange look.

Did Maura Ilia mean...?

"I'm assuming that no one will try to kill you if there's a patrician lady with a purse full of money for bribes in your room."

Of course... _You idiot._

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Yes, you can. Besides, you didn't ask, I offered."

"Thank you..."

Secretly, Iania was immensely relieved. Not just because there was a killer on the loose, but also because she was far from ready to say goodbye.

Maura Ilia paid someone to tell her slave to return with the carriage in the morning. They had almost reached the bottom of the amphora when rosy fingered Eos touched the arena sand.

"I should probably go..."

Iania nodded curtly. If Maura Ilia was still there when training started, there would be hell to pay.  
She tried to keep her voice steady and casual.

"We're leaving Pompeii tomorrow at the break of dawn."

The sadness on Maura Ilias face was proof enough, if she had ever had any doubts, that the kinship she had felt with this strange but endearing patrician lady wasn't one sided.

"I'm going to miss you..."

Iania opened her arms without even thinking about it and Maura Ilia walked into the embrace like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They stood like that for a while. Iania wasn't sure, but she had the feeling that Maura Ilia might be crying silently. She didn't cry herself, not anymore. She was afraid to know what would come out if she let go like that. She just pulled Maura Ilia closer and kissed the crown of her head. Slaves shouldn't act like this with persons of her social standing, off course, but to hell with it. Since when had she been following the rules?

"Write to me? Promise?"

Iania answered yes without thinking. She had never written letters to anyone in her life. But this week had had a lot of firsts, so why not?

"Maybe they'll want us back for Saturnalia..."

None of them mentioned the obvious: that she would probably not be alive by then. Few gladiators had such a lucky streak as she had had, it was bound to change.

"If you come, let me know? Promise to be careful! There is a killer loose out there for sure and I don't just mean the ones in the arena."

Iania walked her to the gates and they said goodbye again, politely like strangers, since the guards were watching. Iania reached out and brushed Maura Ilias hand with the tips of her fingers before she left. She needed another sense memory to hold on to...

***

Maura Ilia focused so much on not bursting into tears in the street that she didn't realise she had left her scarf inside until few minutes later. She had to go back in for it, she always covered her head and most of her face when she left the house at night like this. If people found out what she did at these outings, it would be quite a scandal. And she had an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She never relied on instinct, it wasn't in her nature, but there was something that didn't feel right.

The guard didn't even bother to leer this time around, he just accepted a handful of coins with a bored face.

As she moved down the portico, there was a noise. It didn't sound quite human, more like an animal trying to hold back sounds of distress. It came back again. She didn't know why she was so certain that it meant something horrible, she just knew. Her tiredness was gone as she ran towards Iania's cell, only to find it empty. Bile rose in her throat as she ran between the measly little sleeping areas, looking for her friend, trying to follow the soft whimpering to its point of origin.

She found herself outside a small room with wooden floors and walls, containing the prop swords and spears used in gladiator training. The sound definitely come from here. She heard a soft crooning voice.

"Iania... So nice to finally have time to talk... Did you miss me...?"

"Please... Please..."

Iania's voice was hardly recognisable, high and scared, like a child's.

"Your problem is that you don't know when to stop fighting. Too much heart, it rules your head... I should finish what I started with your husband... What do you think?"

Maura Ilia had to take two deep breaths before entering the room to battle the panic rising in her chest.

When she saw what was going on, she had to take one more, to keep the nausea and tears at bay. Carolus Hoitus was just cutting a gash on Ianias cheek with a slim dagger, a thin line of blood running down her cheek. But that was not the most horrifying sight. The gladiatrix' hands, stuck to the wooden floor by two matching daggers through her palms made Maura Ilias stomach turn.

Carolus Hoitus looked up in surprise, something Maura Ilia suspected didn't happen often. He found his bearing almost immediately, though.

"We have company, how lovely... Iania, your little friend is here, what do you say we invite her to join us?"

He got up, leaving Iania still pinned to the floor, whimpering softly. Slowly, he walked toward her, the knife he had used to cut Ianias cheek still in his hand. He ran his thumb along the edge.

TBC

Authors note: sorry about the cliffhanger, but it made sense to end it there.


	3. Ownership

**3: Ownership  
**

Maura Ilia knew that Iania's whimpered 'please' was aimed at her this time. The red hot anger stilled her face and kept her from revealing any of the heartbreak and horror she was feeling at the sight of her suffering.

"Release her."

She stared coldly at him. It was evident from the mirth glittering in this man's eyes that he was not only a brute, but quite insane. She would have to tread carefully. Tiro had taught her about the damaged mind...

"Let me introduce myself. I am Maura Ilia, the wife of Garritius Farfilius, son of senator Justus Farfilius.

"Ah, yes... The noble Garitius Farfilius... A well respected name."

There was something about the way the madman said 'noble' that made her frown and try to capture it's meaning. The emphasis on _name _in that sentence made her mind stumble for a moment. But she couldn't focus, her logically trained mind was filled with just one phrase repeating over and over. _Stop hurting her._

"The questor is a close friend of my family. If I inform him that you torture well loved entertainers, given clemency by the grace of the people of Pompeii and her protector the Goddess Aphrodite, you will not get to provide the amphitheatre with gladiatores ever again, this I can assure you."

"I cannot imagine the questor begrudging a slave owner handling his stock in a manner he deems suitable. I'm teaching her not to discuss private affairs with strangers. It's simply a lesson in manners, domina."

"Well, then. Let's see if we can change the property part. I've always wanted to own a gladiator, it seems entertaining. What prize do you suggest?"

Maura Ilia never prayed, even though she did have a shrine to the God of healing, like Tiro had taught her. It was more a question of tradition than faith: she wasn't sure she believed in the existence of deities. But now, she prayed...

She could see the battle raging within Carolus Hoitus: the urges to satisfy his perversions weighed against the sizeable sum he could blackmail from her to resolve this situation.

"Oh, but Iania isn't for sale... You see, she's my little favourite. So brave.. And so reckless. I like a bit of fight in my women."

"You don't like women at all. Name your price, or I will make sure that you never sell a single gladiator again, or get to profit from one of your kidnapping victims in the arena."

Carolus Hoitus walked close, invading her personal space, still touching the slim dagger. He smiled at her. Or whatever the proper word for that grimace on his face was.

"I like to conduct these negotiations face to face. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"I know. You're like me. All head, no heart. Shame... But I find you delightful..."

Carolus Hoitus raised a hand to her cheek, obviously with the intention of unsettling her or making her flinch.

"Dont. Touch. Her."

Iania's voice was so dark with pain and fury it was almost a growl.

Like a fury, Hoitus was upon her again, raising the blade to her neck.

"Touch her and you lose everything. Name your price or face the consequences."

Hoitus hand trembled with the urge to break skin, but something on his face told her she had won this fight. He knew that she had the power that she claimed to have.

"Very well... Send your slave for the money and I will release her upon your return. For now..."

He named a sum that made Maura Ilias stomach lurch. It could buy several first rate race horses. But she revealed nothing.

"Release her now, or there will be no payment. I will not purchase a damaged gladiator. I will tend to her wounds while my slave is away, or the deal is off."

She suspected he knew that there was no chance that she would decline his offer, but for some reason he agreed.

Iania's stifled sob when she removed the daggers, as carefully as she could, broke her heart. She had to focus on not crying with all her might. Again, the fury saved her.

The seconds moved like minutes while she waited for her slave to return with the money. The trickling of blood from the holes in the gladiatrix' hands slowly soaked through the silk scarf she was pressing against them gently, but still hard enough to keep the bleeding manageable.  
Her face was chalky white from the blood loss and, suspected Maura Ilia, from holding back her impulse to jump the man from Rome and make him bleed as well. But that would mean an instant death sentence. And Maura could feel the will to live pulse through her friend's system as clearly as she could feel it in her own body, adrenaline pumping through her veins, causing a slight tremor in her hands.

The man from Rome sat across from them, on a steel rimmed chest and smirked at them, like maiming women and haggling about life and death was all in a day's work for him. It probably was. His eyes kept darting back to the wounds on Iania's hands. His pink tongue slid out and licked his lips, like the sight made his mouth dry. There was something seriously off kilter there and she could feel the body pressed against her own singing with muscle tone, ready to move at any moment. The gladiatrix knew that madness better than she did and her body remembered.

Maura Ilia wondered why he didn't scare her. The object of his actions was terror, but she was not in a position to be terrorised, unlike the woman next to her, who was obviously still painfully aware that she was his property until help arrived. There was nothing she could do as he got up and walked over to the gladiatrix, obviously to revel in her attempts to keep her revulsion at bay.

"Iania... It's so nice that you have found a little friend... But I'll miss you. You've been a rewarding challenge..."

He caressed her cheek, getting a faint trace of blood on his hand as he did so. Maura Ilia didn't dare risk him changing his mind about the deal, so she let it happen, just pulling her friend a little closer.

Hearing the slave's steps down the dusty portico was like music. She got up from her crouching position, slowly keeping her eyes on Hoitus, still holding Iania. She still wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't try to take his knife and kill him with her damaged hands.

On the way out of the dirty storage room, he called out to her.

"Domina?"

She turned and looked at him coldly.

"Well played. We will meet again."

"I hope not."

"Oh, but we will..."

Hoitus knew something she didn't, Maura Ilia was almost certain of it, but she simply had no time or even interest in dwelling on that now.

***  
Iania kept throwing glances over her shoulder, like she feared she was being pursued by someone, as they swiftly moved through the narrow porticos of the Pompeiian amphitheatre, Maura Ilia still cradling her bleeding hands in hers and keeping them up to stem the blood flow.

"Do you have a weapon?"

Maura Ilia looked at her in surprise.

"Of course not."

"There's a an extra knife in my boot, you should grab it."

"I will do no such thing. It's alright, you're safe now."

The gladiatrix let out a bitter laugh.

"There is no such thing as safe, you learn that down here. This was too easy, why would he let me go like that?"

"Because of two thousand denarii? And I hardly think making holes in your hands qualifies as easy.."

"I do, when it comes to Carolus Hoitus. He might just let us think we got away, he's done that before."

"Iania, even though you like to mock my upper class background, it has its uses. Being the daughter of senator Marcus Justus Ilius, people rarely try to assassinate you."

"That's what I used to think. Let's just get out of here..."

"I wholly agree."

When they got to the gates, Maura Ilia could literally hear Iania stop breathing while they passed the guards, who up until now had been in charge of seeing to it that she remained safely locked behind them. She showed the document she had made Hoitus sign, instructing her slave to bring quill and parchment as well, so the purchase became official. There was also the customary exchange of coins. In her experience, there wasn't much you couldn't buy with money. Well... There was love and affection, of course... You could only purchase mock versions of them. She threw a glance at Iania's tense, white face. She sincerely hoped you could buy peace of mind...

Iania looked embarrassed when she had to lean heavily on her when getting into the carriage. Not being able to use her own hands, she had to Use Maura Ilia's instead.

As the carriage started moving, she stared incredulously at the disappearing amphitheatre.

"I can't believe he let me go..."

"I'm not sure "let" is the word. But I'm glad he did. Welcome to the Farfilii, you're one of the family now.

"Thank you."

Ianias reply was stiff and formal. But there would be plenty of time for bonding sessions later. Right now, she needed to temporarily dress the wounds. She didn't do much apart from making sure the bleeding stopped, she would bandage them properly when they arrived at the house.

She was a little surprised at her lack of relief at her escape, but she had no idea what it must have been like to be in her situation, maybe being edgy and paranoid was what had kept her alive alive these years...

When they arrived at the Farfilius villa, Maura Ilia requested that the baths were made ready and then dismissed the other servants, protecting Iania from their curious eyes.

"Wow..."

The gladiatrix stood in the middle of the Atrium, jaw hanging, as she took in the gardens, the large fresco painting of Venus and the sheer size of the villa of the Farfilii.

"It's not just you... Your house looks like something out of a painting too. "

"My bedroom's this way."

"Your bedroom? Venus, offer a girl some wine first, would you...?"

"Haha. Thought you might appreciate some privacy when you change."

She could tell from the look on Iania face that she was surprised by the opulence of her bedroom as well. It was certainly grand compared to the slave quarters of the amphitheatre... She knew she liked to be comfortable, but she had never seen her own quarters through the eyes of someone who had nothing... It was eye opening.

"What should we do with your armour? Burn it? Or would you like me to store it for you?"

Reflexively, Iania closed her arms over her chest, ridiculously protecting her leather and metal armour with her soft skin and broken hands. She had worn it for so long, it had become part of who she was... The thought of giving it up scared her. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it. She looked down with a frown on her face. How could she explain it to someone who hadn't been where she had been?

"No."

"You can't very well wear it when you bathe...?"

"I don't need a bath, I'm fine."

She couldn't help the gruffness in her voice. She was so far out of her comfort zone, if she even had one of those anymore, that she had no idea how to handle this new situation, this ridiculously luxurious house, so clearly not built for someone like her and this gorgeous and kind woman, whom she was both completely baffled by and somehow felt a strange affinity with.

"I've just ransomed you with sum that would have bought me three race horses. Good ones. Now, I know you're not the obedient type and as you know, I find that refreshing, but even if you never obey me again, please do me the courtesy of doing so now. Trust me?"

She smiled, to take the edge off her words.

Iania looked up, a frown on her face.

"I do... I guess that's the problem..."

How could she explain to Maura Ilia that she had fought so long she just didn't know how to stop anymore? That she was terrified that if she stopped hitting the ground running, she would lose her edge and not be ready the next time they came for her? Because if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that there was always a next time, a next sword, a next fiend. She had learned this the hard way... In this respect, Maura Ilia's kindness was more dangerous than Hoitus' knives. At least she knew how to deal with the latter. The former made her soft and vulnerable.

"I haven't had much luck with trust so far... I guess I distrust trust."

Iania smiled, a crooked, pained, heartbreaking smile that made Maura Ilia's eyes tear up again and she cursed herself for it. Today, she needed to be the strong one.

"Of course...I should have realised. Let's leave trust out of it and stick to the facts: if you don't let me wash your hands, they might not heal properly and then you would be a worse fighter. As a gladiator, you know the importance of maintaining strength and agility. And frankly, you smell. The floor of that room wasn't exactly covered in roses. And if you're going to sleep in my room, I'd prefer you less smelly. So... We can do this the easy way or the hard way. "

Iania nodded curtly. This language she understood. Damn this woman, could she get her to do anything? But at the same time, losing a fight had never felt this good before...

"Wait... I'm going to sleep in your room...?"

"Yes. Your body has been through a traumatic experience. It's likely that you not only will experience some emotional discomfort, but you're also at risk of fever and infection. And since I'd prefer not to share a bunk with you in the servant's quarters, that might look strange, you will be sleeping in my room so I can monitor your injuries comfortably."

"Fair enough. You paid for the privilege. I will do as you wish."

It wasn't until the words were already out of her mouth that she realised how it sounded.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean it like that. This has just...been one Hades of a day, you know? I'm still trying to catch up."

The hurt look on Maura Ilia's face disappeared and was replaced by a wry smile, which was much better. Anything but hurt and sadness. She was through causing that, if she had anything to say about it...

"That's possibly the biggest understatement I have ever heard... Don't worry, the fact that you're even standing up after what you've been through is admirable."

She didn't object when Maura Ilia made her drink milk of the poppy. She was used to pain worse than this, but there was something about the wounds that Hoitus made: the combination of torn flesh and bone, rage and shame that made them hurt more. And she suspected that the sympathy pain in Maura Ilia's eyes would subside a little if she agreed to pain relief...

"Shall we bathe?"

Iania rolled her eyes.

"Yeahyeahyeah... I get it, I smell."

"You do, yes."

"Just say whatever is on your mind, why don't you."

"Thank you, I will."

"So I've noticed." Iania grouched as they walked towards the bathhouse.

Maura Ilia was quickly learning that the grouching and the sarcasm was the gladiatrix' preferred method of letting out steam.

The slave stopped when the entered the little caldarium.

"Wow... Again. Never known anyone who had a private bathhouse... Just how rich ARE you?"

"Well, this is Garritius' house, it's been in his family for generations. But I'm... comfortable."

She looked at Iania with a steady gaze. Would the differences in social standing become an issue? Would it cloud the waters of their budding friendship? She didn't want a slave, she wanted a confidente.

"Right. How do you want me?"

Maura Ilia felt an immense relief that she had dropped the subject so readily.

"Just naked."

"Really...?"

"Yes. I won't be able to assess your injuries properly otherwise."

"Oh, we're having that conversation again, are we?"

"Yes."

Maura Ilia smiled and Iania smiled back.

"Well, at least I know what your intentions are this time."

"OK, take your armour off and I'll have it cleaned or burned, whichever you prefer."

"Wait... There's no servant? Are you suggesting you will bathe me yourself?"

"I am... We have servants, but I thought you would appreciate the privacy in this case... And I don't trust anyone else with your wounds."

"I can't let you do that. I'm a slave, it isn't right."

"You weren't always a slave. And I have wiped the blood off your infected wound, but you won't let me assist you in bathing?"

"It's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

Maura Ilia sighed.

"I once tried to convince a two year old to take a bath. It was easier."

Iania gave up again. She was too tired, the fight drained out of her when she saw the steaming goodness of the warm bath and the steam room.

"I thought we would do a shorter version, I'm not so keen on your wounds being in the water longer than necessary before I dress them. OK: arms up."

Maura Ilia looked up at her with a frown on her face.

"You're tall..."

"So I've been told."

"Maybe you'd better sit down."

As she pulled the bloody and grubby tunic over her head, standing so close, Iania noticed that Maura Ilia had a very impressive set of curves on her... And she smelled really good too, even though she had spent the night with her in the gladiator barracks.

She smiled lazily up at her new owner.

"You're really pretty..."

"I'm glad the poppy has taken effect." Maura Ilia replied teasingly as she gently maneuvered her simple undergarments off as well. Iania would probably have been embarrassed at their state if she hadn't been enveloped in this soft cloud of well being. They didn't exactly hand out a change of clothes to slaves every day, they were certainly well worn.

"But you are..."

There was only a slight pain in her hands now, a gentle throbbing.

"Thank you."

She sat in the steam room and watched how the dirt and grime fell of her in rivulets of perspiration. It was like the fighter layer was coming off and just her remaining... Then she giggled at her own attempt at philosophizing.

Maura Ilia shot her an amused look over her shoulder. The poppy milk was treating her friend well. It was a well deserved relief from pain and constant vigilance.

Iania sighed in contentment as the cool water rinsed off the last of the dirt and russet traces of blood. Maura Ilia gestured towards the bathtub and she contentedly padded over and let her help her, not even caring now how helpless she seemed.

"I'm sweating all over you."

"Doesn't matter. I'm changing too."

She normally liked to be tidy, but for some reason, dirt, blood or even sweat coming from Iania didn't bother her one bit, she realised.

"Wow, soap... I've never even seen it before, at home everyone uses oil. The bubbles are great!"

She grinned at Maura Ilia, delighted like a child at the new wonder. Soap was rare and expensive, but it was better for cleaning wounds than oil and it lessened the risk of complications. She felt a strong sense of inner contentment as she washed Iania's lovely golden skin clean. She had been useful today, using her riches to make another person's life better. Iania was beautiful, strong and kind and she had probably saved her life today. The sense of wellbeing it caused was close to euphoria.

She lined her medical supplies up in an impeccably ordered fashion according to Hippocrates instructions and looked at the softly smiling gladiatrix, looking remarkably content, considering the ordeal she had gone through. Ironically, it took some coaxing to get her out of the bath this time and into one of her own soft, comfortable robes.

"This is going to hurt, I'm sorry."

She followed the soft line of Maura Ilia's neck with her eyes as she leaned over her hands. Didn't she know it... It was the poppy whispering to her, she knew that. But what if the poppy was right? It was most certainly going to hurt. Maybe not today, but some day...

"I'm not afraid of pain."

It was true. Pain was almost her friend, familiar and tangible. The softness in her when Maura Ilia's kind, sad eyes looked into hers was the unknown quantity and it scared her more than the burning ointment her new owner was putting on her wounds. Maura Ilia cleaned the gash on her cheek that Hoitus had made. Iania leaned her other cheek against her hand.

"Thank you..."

There was something so heartbreakingly vulnerable in the way she said it, so honest in its gratitude that Maura ached for her. As she looked into the dark eyes, alight with emotion, the thought crossed her mind that it wasn't about friendship after all. It would explain a lot if she... If she were... Falling in love.

"This is... It's softer than anything I've ever felt before..."

Back in her bedroom getting ready for bed, both of them with dark circles under their eyes and ever increasing frequency of yawning after a long night's journey, Maura Ilia had laid out clothes for Iania to sleep in and had discreetly gotten rid of the bloody old things she had worn underneath her armour.

"It's sea silk. It's my favourite."

To Maura ilias consternation, Iania gingerly put the tunic back on the bed, like it might bite.

"You didn't like it? But you said..."

"I'm a slave. I shouldn't wear that, it's ridiculously expensive. I'll ruin it."

Maura Ilia sighed and picked the garment up from where Iania had laid it carefully on her bed.

"Arms up."

"Come on, there must be some old wool thing I can wear."

"This is old and worn, that's why I gave it to you. I want you to be comfortable. Stop arguing, it's like trying to dress a reluctant child. I guess it's a sign that you're getting better that you're this argumentative."

"Come on... Where do I keep my weapon in this?"

Maura Ila took a step forward and put her hands on her shoulders.

"Iania... You're in my house, you're safe, you don't need weapons."

Muttering, Iania let her dress her in what she correctly assumed was a very expensive and expertly made garment. What she didn't know was that all of Maura Ilia's wardrobe looked like that, so there wasn't much choice.

The tunic being soft and comfortable wasn't the only reason why she wanted her friend to wear it. There was also the detail of how beautifully the ivory accentuated her midnight eyes and hair and made them look almost raven. And how the gold fringe brought out the warmth in her skin tone which made Maura Ilias heart beat fast when she looked at her and her face feel hot and flushed...

When she looked away, Iania took a small letter knife from her dresser and stuck it inside her underwear. Sadly, she knew better than her that you never know when you're going to need a weapon and she was sure as Hades not going to be caught without one when that happened.

Maura Ilia was just about to leave to talk to the servants about getting a light meal before going to sleep when Iania anxiously stood up.

"Where are you going...?"

"I'm just going to..."

Iania walked into her arms and grabbed the purple silk of her tunic in her fist, like she was trying to keep her there physically.

"Don't go."

The words were so silent they were barely audible, whispered against her neck. Then she burst into tears, strained, heartbreaking sobs, the sounds of someone who hadn't been crying for so long that they hardly remembered how to anymore.

Maura Ilia gently pulled her down on the bed with her and held her tightly while she cried a seemingly unstoppable flood, crying for all that had happened to her and to the people like her. She played with her hair, still moist from the bath, kissed her cheeks and forehead and stroked her back until she calmed down. She mumbled a quiet apology against her owner's collarbone.

"I haven't cried since the night they took me. I don't know why I'm like this."

"I believe it's called 'being human' " she whispered softly back.

The now former gladiatrix was soon sound asleep on her shoulder. Maura Ilia kissed the crown of her head.

"It's alright, I never want you to leave me either..." she mumbled before following.


	4. Steam

AN: I have this dumb joke that I like. The Romans were obsessed with silphium, which was a spice. It is considered to be extinct, since it was intensely sought after during ancient times, but I don't really buy it. As finds of animals no one has seen for centuries proves, things aren't extinct quite as often as we assume. So maybe, maybe, some unassuming flower in some suburban garden is really silphium, or it simply grows in some part of the world not yet ruined by man. But since no one knows what silphium looks like, I always make sure to attribute as much use as possible to this famous plant. I like giving people 'silphium blue' eyes and stuff like that, because I'm a a dork. So do I know that you can make oil from silphium seeds? I do not. Do I know it smelled good? I do not. Artistic license, people ;) Sorry it took ages, I had stuff with stuff and other delays. Hope you like!

It was the heat of the forehead pressed against her shoulder that woke her up. She had expected this reaction, so she tried to keep calm, but she couldn't help but feel a knot of worry in her stomach as she touched her skin to try and gauge how high the fever ran. She was scorching and the usually shiny dark hair was matted against her forehead. With her emotional trauma and broken hands, damaged by a knife that had been gods only knew where, a fever was to be expected, she only hoped the complications wouldn't be worse than that...

She adjusted her position so she was half sitting up and Iania whimpered softly at the movement underneath her. But she had to be able to see her face. Some time later, the gladiatrix got restless and starting muttering things in an agitated tone. The frown on her forehead deepened and Maura Ilia tentatively tried to smooth it out with the tips of her fingers. This seemed to be effective, since this caused Iania to scoot closer and her breath to even out.

She hoped she would recover soon, but she guiltily thought about how much she loved having her here and tried to think of a reason for asking her to stay, instead of sleeping in the servants quarters, when she was well. She felt an overwhelming tenderness towards the vulnerable fighter laying on her chest. It felt like it made sense for them to lie here next to each other.

At the first light of dawn, Iania's eyes flew open and she tried to get up.

"What are you doing here?"

Maura Ilia smiled softly.

"This is my house and my bed."

Iania jerked upright and winced as she braced herself on her damaged hands.

"You're safe."

She stroked her arm soothingly as her bed fellow's huge apprehensive eyes scanned her surroundings.

Maura Ilia fluffed the pillows underneath her and gently coaxed her to lie back down.

"I thought I was..."

"I know..."

Iania took a deep breath. Maura Ilia's voice had managed to quell the sense of panic within her with surprising ease. She looked at her face and frowned when she noticed that the kind smile hid dark circles under her red rimmed eyes.

"Wait... Have you been up all night?"

"Not all of it..."

Maura Ilia avoided her gaze and Iania guessed that she might as well have answered yes.

"You shouldn't have... Thank you."

"I would have had nightmares about Hippocrates condemning me if I didn't monitor someone with a fever like that."

"Oh, no... Not HIPPOCRATES..."

"I'm glad you're feeling better..." Maura Ilia narrowed her eyes and looked at her in faux disapprovement. But Iania could see the hint of a smile threatening to break out as well.

"Thank you..."

She rose up and kissed her cheek softly.

Maura Ilia shook her head and encouraged her to lie back down and fussed over checking her bandages. She was a terrible liar, she was afraid it was written on her face how much she liked her lips against her skin. Their second kiss. She smiled wryly at herself and at the absurdity of that thought. Iania had no idea what she was thinking.

Iania didn't, but she had vague memories of a warm hand moving soothingly down her spine and a soft shoulder under her cheek. The last few hours of sleep had been calm and without dreams. Or nightmares... She rarely dreamed about pleasant things these days. Before Maura Ilia, there had been no point for her brain to dream up such things.

She felt she should grumble when Maura Ilia cared for her like the convalescent that she was and made a few brave attempts when she realised that she couldn't eat by herself with her stiff, aching and bandaged hands, but in the end let Maura Ilia feed her. When she patted her burning forehead with linen dipped in cool water, she couldn't help but make a contented noise and ask for more.

The first few days passed without Maura Ilia letting Iania leave her bedroom. When she begrudgingly admitted that the wound was healing well enough to allow a bath, Iania beamed at her like she had promised her emperor Titus' weight in gold.

"I remember you being very hesitant to bathe only a few days ago..."

"That was back before I saw your baths."

"Well, privilege has it's privileges..."

"It certainly does."

Last time she had been here, she had been too broken and too delightfully fussy in the head from milk of the poopy to think things over properly, but as she entered the bathhouse, she realised that she had no idea what happened next. Rightfully, she should be the one scrubbing Maura Ilia's back, but her hands were not yet dexterous enough to make her of any use in that department. And Maura Ilia didn't seem interested in having other servants present, which she appreciated.

"You can leave your clothes in the changing room to be washed."

Iania realised two things: someone else would wash her clothes for her for the first time since she was a little girl living with her mother and Maura Ilia expected her to get naked and probably bathe with her. She wasn't sure what unsettled her the most: having someone else do her dirty work or accidentally blurring the lines between master and servant. She didn't even know what her duties would be. She was likely useless at anything this life would entail. She had no clue how things were done at a stately Roman villa. They hardly had use for someone whose primary skill was harming other people...

"Come on! The temperature is just right!"

"You don't want me to wait until you're done...?"

"No, I certainly don't, I'll get cold sitting here waiting for you."

"But don't servants..."

"Iania, listen. There is a whole bunch of do's and don'ts at play here. But the way I see it, the reason why we're friends is that neither of us are particularly interested in convention. I might be able to pick exactly the right outfit to meet the emperor and to lie down at a banquet without spilling, but if that was all I looked for in a companion, I would be having a polite chat about society gossip with the quaestor's wife right now. Instead I'm here. Talking to you is way more interesting."

"You do know I'm going to embarrass you in some horrendous way eventually, right?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it. Just as you know I will you if you ever take me to another part of town..."

The answer was given in a carefree tone that suggested that all this would be taken in its stride. She couldn't help but smile back and felt some of the tension seep out of her shoulders.

Maura Ilia entered the tepidarium and left her alone in the changing room. Undressing took longer than she thought with her bandaged hands...

She was cursing under her breath when she felt a soft hand on her neck. Her reaction was spontaneous, more based on muscle memory than conscious thought. She yanked the hand forward, spun the owner around and pinned the soft body against the wall, arm safely locked above her head, using her own weight to press it against the warm surface. It wasn't until she looked down into Maura Ilia's frightened eyes that she realised what she had done.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry... Are you alright? I didn't mean to..."

Iania moved her hand over her shoulders and her arms, checking to see if she was unharmed. When one hand stilled on her cheek and one cupping her neck, she suddenly realised what this must look like: she was almost naked, pressed against the nearly unbearable softness that was Maura Ilia's pampered skin... One hand on her face and one possessively around her neck. It looked like she was about to kiss her owner, without her consent. Or worse... Her eyes dipped down to their hips, pushed together, like her motivation was far from innocent. On the way up, her eyes stumbled on the sight of Maura Ilia's generous chest pressed against the soft wool of her strophium. A stranger would have thought this to be something different from what it was...

Maura Ilia cleared her throat. Iania could see her eyes making the same journey, taking in the strangeness of their situation. She felt her heart pounding, much faster than usual. She swallowed and licked her lips, trying to make up for the sudden dryness of her mouth. She abruptly took a step back, she needed to make her intentions, or lack of intention, clear.

"If someone came from behind in the arena, it was always a bad thing... I'm so sorry. Tell me you're OK?"

"Of course. I should have realised that your defense mechanisms are well developed. I'll approach with greater care. I just realised that we should remove your bandages before you go in the water, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be... I'm the damaged one."

Maura Ilia touched her arm, tentatively. Gaining confidence from her compliance, she stroked it encouragingly.

"I don't believe that. I believe you are a healthy soul in a healthy body who's lived in a crazy, damaged world. It's not you, it's what was done to you."

"Really...?"

"Really. Now let's bathe, I promise not to jump you again."

"Fine. I promise not to attack you."

But Iania felt shaken. What if she had impulses she couldn't control? Or what if this had been less of an impulse than she had wanted it to? Her body felt alive... She could still feel Maura Ilia. Being skin against skin had been delicious, even if it came with a side dish of anxiety.

Sitting in the small but prettily decorated steam room, she tried not to glance at Maura Ilia's naked form a few inches away. And sometimes failed... The steam made her skin glisten and it was so tempting to follow a drop of moisture down her neck and...further... She was beginning to realise that there was a strong physical component to this strange kinship they felt. There was something compelling her to try to get close, to be soothed by her body heat. She had never known anyone as clean or as tidy as her, but the fact that she smelled good couldn't be the whole explanation. In fact, a sweaty, steamy Maura Ilia had the same effect on her, if not stronger. She followed the curve of her collarbone and down to a full breast and felt her heart pound...

She listened to the excited talk about how innovative the hypocaust heating system was and how the particular form of the furnace was apparently the latest in bath technology. She understood maybe half of it and split her time between watching Maura Ilia's glittering eyes as she spoke animatedly about science and innovation and making benevolently sarcastic remarks.

Without saying anything that might lead to a discussion about who was doing what, Maura Ilia brought out the oil for the next step of the bathing process. She hesitated briefly before putting her hands on Iania's skin. It had never felt in any way remarkable when a slave oiled her skin or washed her back. She had just chatted politely as if they were having a cup of lemon water in the garden, nothing more, or both would go about their business, saying nothing. But it felt strangely intimate now, as she poured some oil in the palm of her hand: she told herself that the reason she didn't use a washcloth was that she needed to be able to feel potential abnormalities, like swelling or contusions. Maybe she did or maybe she just wanted to feel her skin, she wasn't sure...

Iania had fought other women in hand to hand combat, shared a bed with them, been pressed up against them in the heat of battle or going to the slave market, even exchanged encouraging hugs in the beginning, full of lies about a happy ending to a story without one. But Maura Ilia's hands on her felt different. Her body had been her weapon and she had thought that she had been hyper aware of it before. But she knew now she hadn't, it had just been a machine to her. Under her owner's touch, each muscle and tendon sang. She could feel the traces of her fingers long after she had passed. The pain became more acute too when she relaxed, but it was worth it. She kneaded the tense knots in her shoulders, leading to a mixture between pain and pleasure where one only served to enhance the other. She didn't ask where she had learnt it or why she was willing to do this for her, she was almost certain that the reply would have been that Tiro, or some other master, had taught her and she really wanted to keep her skills honed. Right now, she didn't care, she only cared about the hands, wishing it would never stop.  
When Maura Ilia kneeled down in front of her and took one of her feet in her hand, she discovered that even the light pressure on the arches, as her well oiled fingers worked over the sole, was enough to make her skin hum.

As she circled her kneecaps and went further up her legs, she started to feel uncomfortable. Maura Ilia's firm but gentle touch on the inside of her thighs was enough to make her squirm subtly in her seat. This wasn't supposed to feel pleasurable in this way, it was an innocent gesture... Or should have been. Seeing her owner sitting between her spread knees looked about as innocent as they had done earlier when she overreacted and pressed her up against that heated wall...

Maura Ilia slowed her movements. She ought to hurry up and get this sweet torture over with, the gladiatrix' skin made her palms feel overheated... She enjoyed touching her in a way that Tiro would not have approved of: he had strict rules for the relationship between carer and the sick. One of his helpers had been transferred to other duties after being caught kissing a woman whose healing process he had been sent out to monitor. So she should stop... But the sharp, masterful angles and curves of Iania's body proved too hard to resist. The only sound in the room now was deep breathing, somewhat irregular, maybe even a bit laboured. She looked up.

"Are you comfortable?"

She wanted to reply "not all all" but she had no desire to explain why, as Maura Ilia mercifully removed her delicious hands from the soft skin of her inner thighs, so she nodded and smiled.

"OK, I think that's it. Would you stand up?"

Iania was relieved when her hands were replaced by the strigil. The strigil was safe.

Maura Ilia slid into the hot water of the larger pool and sighed contentedly. She looked expectantly at Iania, who again pondered mentioning the strangeness of a slave bathing with her domina, but in the end just muttered a "oh, alright" to herself and got in the water with her.

"I'm going to wash your hair, so maybe you should close your eyes?"

Iania complied. Maura Ilia decided that some of the rare, costly soap was called for, to wash the last traces of her former life out. Her slave made a contented noise as she ran her finger through the tangled mass.

Her hand slid slowly up her neck, gently cupping and caressing the soft skin. The moisture in the room made the fine hair at the base of her neck curl and she slid her fingers into it, caressing the skin with her thumb. It wasn't until Iania gave her a quizzical look over her shoulder that she realised that this had no purpose for washing and she had to explain herself.

"You... I thought I saw a bruise there, I just wanted to check that there was no swelling."

Iania kept looking at her and a frown formed on her forehead.

"Are you alright? You look kind of overheated, your neck is really red..."

"Oh, that's nothing, I always get like that when I bathe." _Or lie..._

The second lie made the itching even worse, so she elected to be quiet and try to keep her hands to herself. She failed, but at least she remembered the washing part this time...

After washing off the remnants of oil and soap and a cooling dip in the frigidarium, Maura Ilia proceeded to bandage her hands again. She pulled out a small bottle of a slow moving amber substance.

"Honey...? Really?"

"Honey has healing properties. This will keep make your hands heal themselves from inside."

"You're brilliant, you know that?"

"Yes."

"And humble..."

Maura Ilia wasn't offended. She just smiled.

"I have worked hard for this knowledge."

"Sure. And being smarter than Seneca has nothing to do with it."

"You're exaggerating."

"No, I don't think I am."

"There's a selection of scented oils to choose from. I like silphium seed myself, but there's almond if you prefer?"

"Thank you, I'm good. I'm a simple woman, I'm just glad to be clean."

As she watched Maura Ilia slide her glistening hands over her own skin, Iania was torn between an impulse to say she wanted it too, so she would touch her like that and contentment with the fact that she hadn't, so she was free to observe a truly appealing display. Watching was definitely the safer option, her heart was still beating a little faster than usual after the last session...

They dressed and decided to sit in the garden for a while, Iania being unwilling to resume her bedridden state, even though she was secretly exhausted after the bath. She stopped dead in her tracks as a boyishly handsome man appeared in front of her. His hair was oiled into dainty waves and he was wearing a toga, even though it was a hot day. It was whiter than any garment she had ever seen before. She hated him already...  
He walked over to her and looked at her. No. Appraised her, like a promising or possibly disappointing filly he considered buying for his horse racing team. He looked at Maura Ilia with raised eyebrows.

"Garritius, I didn't know you were coming home today?"

"You've bought a slave?"

"I have. I used my own savings. Her lanista was abusive and I couldn't accept it."

Garritius interrupted rudely: "Her lanista? She's a gladiatrix? You bought a gladiatrix? Why on earth would you do a thing like that? They cost a fortune and what are we going to do with one? I'm a Farfilius, I can't hire gladiators out for the arena!"

"Iania isn't going back to the arena, she's my personal servant now."

"You bought a gladiatrix and are going to use her to dress and bathe you? We have servants for that. Look at her, she knows nothing about servicing a lady. And now... it's not a good time for new purchases. The market has changed."

He looked at her again, so intrusively that Iania felt she might as well have been naked.

"Wait a minute... Aren't you the famous one that starred on Veneralia? The one in the graffiti all over town?"

Iania took a defiant step forward, Maura Ilia could see her battle stance in the corner of her eye and touched her arm to dissuade her.

"I'm sure you're very good with a wooden club or whatever it is that you use in the arena, but a household like this has no need for your services."

"Maybe you should leave that decision up to your wife, she seems to know better." The smile on the gladiatrix' face was insolent bordering on mocking. Maura Ilia could almost see the animosity between her husband and her friend, making the air between them buzz.

"In the future, you will speak only when spoken to and address me as dominus, if you have to address me at all, I prefer discreet servants. Please teach your slave appropriate manners."

"Iania is new at this, she'll learn. If you saw what that fiend was doing to his gladiatrices, you would understand my decision."

"Wait... Who are we talking about, who is this lanista?"

They was a hint of something on the boyish face. Panic, perhaps?

"His name is Carolus Hoitus."

All the colour drained from Garritius face at his wife's words, even Iania could see it, who had never met him before.

"Stay away from him, do you hear me? You are never to go near him again."  
He turned around and moved menacingly close to Iania. "And that goes for you too, you will be punished if you fail to comply."

Maura Ilia stared at him as he stomped off. She had never seen or heard Garritius act anything like this.

"That was your husband? I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm the one with bad manners."

She saw the fury on Iania's face and her clenched jaw and thought vaguely that the very temper that had made her such a survivor in the arena had to be controlled now, not to cause her trouble. But mainly she was shocked at Garritius behaviour. Carolus Hoitus' whispered in her ear: the _noble_Garritius Farfilius...

"Are you alright?"

Iania put her hand protectively in the small of her back.

"He doesn't usually act like this, normally he's very polite."

"I'll have to take your word for that."

Maura Ilia sat down on a marble bench in the luscious flower garden and stared out into thin air.

"There was just something that Carolus Hoitus said... About Garritius' good name. It wasn't what he said. It was how. I admit that I was pretty distracted at the time, but there was no mistaking it."

"I was pretty distracted too, I'm afraid."

Iania smiled wryly, more a grimace than a smile.

"You need to know that Carolus Hoitus does whatever he can to ruin your peace of mind. He's brilliant at it. He might have just said whatever he could think of to unsettle you."

"I thought about that... But there was something about the way he smiled. Like he had a really good secret."

Iania suddenly knew what her assignment was, how she could be useful.

"Tomorrow, I'll go out and put my ear to the ground, talk to some people. There was a lot of society's worst coming and going at the arena. If anyone knows whether there is anything here, I'll be able to find it. I'm good at making friends in low places..."

"On two conditions: not tomorrow. When your hands are properly healed, which is up to me to decide. And you have to promise me to steer clear of violence at any cost, is that clear?"

"Yes, DOMINA."

Iania adopted a faux demure expression and bowed her head.

"You know very well what I'm talking about. I wish I could come with you and make sure you stay out of trouble... But I realise that would cramp your style."

"Don't worry, I've had enough violence for one lifetime. I have my methods", Iania said with a cheeky grin. "Pointing to graffiti pictures of me with the number 46 is usually pretty effective..."

"I can only imagine..."

Maura Ilia felt like a mixture of a mother and a spouse when she gave Iania a purse full of change and fresh bread and fruit for lunch.

"I can't believe I'm encouraging you to get drunk, but there's money enough to bribe people with both wine and food, if need be. Just be careful who you show it to, we don't want you to get robbed."

"Don't worry about me. 46, remember?"

Iania pointed to herself with almost comical pride.

"Let's make sure we reach 47. "

She kissed her softly on the cheek and caressed her arm.

"Stay safe, or you won't be when you get home."

"Ooh, I'm scared, _domina_."

Iania hugged her with a cheeky grin and then was gone. Maura Ilia watched her walking down the street, dominating even that scene like she always seemed to do. She might disappear and never come back, seizing her chance. She relished in the absolute knowledge that this wouldn't happen. She knew Iania would come back to her. It was irrational and yet she knew it...

Iania was hot and tired and her scars ached when she got home, hours later. Maybe she had overdone it a little, but she was determined to be useful to Maura Ilia. This first day of detective work had not been a waste, if this Rondus was as good as people said...

She entered the garden and her smile faded. She didn't have to know Maura Ilia was uncomfortable, she could tell from her stiff, sad back just as well as if she had told her so. There was a woman sitting opposite her talking to her. Or rather, talking at her, by the looks of it.

Iania stopped a servant passing with a dish of dainty cakes and fruit.

"I'll take that."

"But..."

"Don't worry, it's on me, she'll be fine with it, I promise."

She tried to make her face as neutral as possible as she approached the party. She recognised the quaestor's wife.

"Well, you've always been a little strange, dear, no offense."

"So you say, yes. Frequently..."

The voice was cold, but this did not deter the speaker from continuing.

Iania saw Maura Ilia's surprised face when she showed up, but she just put the serving dish down and left again. She intercepted a servant carrying a carafe of sweet spiced wine and took it.

The quaestor's wife was prattling on about how Maura Ilia would do well to tone down her 'less feminine' side at social gatherings. Iania knew she meant her smarts and her education. She had gotten that a lot herself, regarding her strength and survival skills. Tone it down... Hide. People didn't say that to her anymore, not after 46 wins. Now it was her job to make this woman stop saying it to Maura Ilia...

The quaestor's wife squealed in horror as her exquisite stola was splashed with vivid ruby.

"I'm so sorry, domina. I'm so much better at maiming than serving, you must forgive my clumsy, clumsy butterfingers."

"Iania is a gladitrix I saved from an unvirtuous life. Such a worthwhile cause, don't you agree, Prima Calpurnia? Charity is such an important part of a Roman matron's duties."

Maura Ilia smiled sweetly and vacantly, like she genuinely didn't see the fury on Prima Calpurnia's face. She didn't even have to lie or pretend. Saving Iania from Carolus Hoitus was by far the most worthwhile thing she had done. And she knew very well that her guest hadn't spent as much as a penny on charity in her life, she was a known cheapskate, which made this even more satisfying.

As Prima Calpurnia left in a huff, Maura Ilia turned to look at Iania with narrow eyes and lips thinly stretched. She didn't understand and she wasn't used to that. How could this woman, a stranger until a few weeks ago, read her well enough to know that she would have done anything to get rid of Prima Calpurnia? Her whole life, she had struggled with being misunderstood by people, to the point of almost developing a social phobia. And here came this cocky greek slave who sometimes seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

"Are you mad at me? Just looked like you could use some help..."

She saw from the dimples forming on Iania's cheeks that she was pretty damn happy with her prank and had to resist not laughing. She gave up trying. She pulled Iania down next to her on the uncomfortable ornamental bench and leaned her head on her shoulder as her shoulders shook with mirth.

"You are a bad woman, that was not nice. But I love you for it."

"You're welcome, honey."

She should pour wine over patrician ladies every day...


	5. Blame

A/N: those pastry birds were a real thing, they're mentioned in several texts. Ancestors of modern day baklava.

"It's weird... I'm getting soft in strange places. I've been training hard for so long I guess I've forgotten what I used to look like. Give me your hand."

Maura Ilia hesitantly extended her hand for her to put it on her hip bone. She was right, a hint of softness had settled around the previously almost painfully lean arena. Maura Ilia had to swallow carefully and control her breaths as she moved her hand. That was all it took: even through the thin fabric, it burned her hand. Knowing it was unwise, she slid her hand down her Iania's leg, to her knee. She gently cupped her kneecap. It was more of a caress than an investigation, but she pretended like she was still curious about changes in her muscle mass.  
By force of will, she managed to remove it. She could still feel the ghost of her skin against her palm, she wished she didn't have to touch anything else to make it go away. She let her warm hand hang along her side.

"You're right, you're softer. You look nice..."

She figured it was a good, neutral statement to make.

Iania had smiled when she had looked down at her scarred hands that morning. They looked awful, still pink and raw. But as long as they were good for what she wanted to do...

"Come on, let me scrub your back this time. It's my turn."

Maura Ilia suddenly felt naked. Admittedly, she was. And Iania was still in her light tunic as she followed her into the bathhouse and stopped her hand holding the soft washcloth. She gently pried it out of her owner's hand. Maura Ilia felt even more naked without it. She had grown accustomed to Iania's handicap giving her free access to her skin and license to touch. Now she would be the passive one, the one without control... It was thrilling and nerve wracking at the same time. She loved their time together bathing, it was so intimate and casual, no prying eyes or demands of them to play their parts. It was the best part of her day, luxuriating in the warm water and the warmth between them as they talked about everything and nothing. And because she had been the one doing the washing, hiding her reactions had been easy, ducking behind Iania's shoulder or pretend to find a spot of grime where there was none, just to be able to run her thumb over that soft place...

Reversing the roles, Iania cupped her hand and dropped oil into it, hesitating slightly before putting her slick palm on Maura Ilia's arm, running it slowly up to her shoulder. Sliding smoothly in behind her, she closed her eyes to be able to feel her skin without being distracted. The gentle scent of her filled her nostrils and made her shiver, even if it was very subtle, considering the amount of time they spent in the bathhouse...  
She looked at the silky soft skin in awe. As her calloused hands explored, she didn't find a mark on the noble Maura Ilia anywhere. Her own body was a map of misery for anyone to see, drawn with ink of pain and suffering. But for some reason, she was certain that underneath the smooth surface, Maura Ilia had her own sorrows etched.

Or wait... There it was. A flaw. A tiny, reddish birthmark in the small of her back. She ran the tips of her fingers over it. This tiny imperfection only highlighted the fairness and smoothness of the surrounding skin.

Maura Ilia turned her head and saw a smile blossom slowly on her face.

"What?"

"Nothing..."

The smile became even more introverted.

"Iania... What?"

"I've never seen skin this smooth before. Back home, everyone had scars and injuries. You'd tell me if you were made of something else than human flesh, wouldn't you?"

"No, I don't think I would."

Maura Ilia was puzzled. What would be the point of constructing something artificial to look human and natural, only to reveal it not to be?

Iania couldn't take her eyes off the soft slope of her breasts, how they heaved as Maura Ilia took a deep breath in the moist air of the bath house. She heard her own breathing echo through the room, noticeably shallow. She hadn't felt like this for so long, it was more like a memory of an emotion than an actual emotion. She felt troubled when she recognised it, troubled in a totally different way than when she was just trying to survive.  
This heavy feeling in her body, this hunger when she looked down on the glistening skin under her palm, would make her life with Maura Ilia much more difficult. She remembered the shocked look on her face when she had kissed her that first night.  
What surprised her the most wasn't these carnal feelings, it was how hard it was refraining from touching her. Sometimes she felt as if she had to think consciously about not extending her hand and touching skin. She had the feeling that if she stopped paying such close attention, she might find her palm against the the swelling breast, without ever have made a conscious decision to do it.  
Mesmerised, Iania's gaze followed the curve of her exposed hips and the skin above the soft curls. Guiltily, she adjusted her position to get a better view. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she stared at the hint of pink and petal soft folds of Maura Ilia's sex and found herself wishing she could put a palm against her and feel her warmth on her hand. It was becoming clear to Iania that whatever she felt for Maura Ilia, whatever this comforting madness was, it certainly wasn't friendship. Companionship certainly, but not friendship. If she knew what she was thinking right now, how hard it was not to reach out and touch her, what would her face look like then? Would she feel revulsion?  
She reluctantly switched to the strigil and had to take a deep breath before she was able to tell Maura Ilia in a steady voice that she could get in the water now.  
Her owner pushed some of her damp hair away from her forehead and over her shoulder and she followed the movement of her hand, wishing it was hers...

Iania's tunic was moist and slightly transparent. The skin of her breasts, fairer than her neck because of less exposure to the sun, was clearly visible through the material. As were her dusky pink nipples, hard and contracted from the cool water. Maura Ilia couldn't stop staring at them... She was addicted to seeing Iania naked now. She wanted to push the fabric off her shoulders and watch it fall to the ground, her hands were itching for it...

"Aren't you going to take your clothes off..."

"Actually, I'm just going to..."

She made a vague gesture towards the dressing room. When she got back there, she rested her hot forehead against the slightly cooler tiles. Physical pleasures had been one of the last things on her mind for years and now she couldn't think of anything else. But the tenderness was almost harder not to act on. It seemed to only grow exponentially... She didn't recognise this gentleness in herself, in the reverent way she touched Maura Ilia. Who was waiting for her in the caldarium, naked...  
Guiltily, she slid her tunic up her thigh and let her hand follow. As a slave she had learned to do everything quietly and she bit her lip and forced herself to breathe evenly up until the moment when she failed, climaxing silently.

Maura Ilia made a contented noise and adjusted her position slightly to lie back in the warm pool. The throbbing in her lower belly hadn't stopped. Her skin felt tight and hot. The inside of her thighs felt strangely raw, even though Iania had only touched her gently, with the tips of her fingers...  
As Iania padded in on silent feet, now gloriously naked, she looked at her over her shoulder.

"It feels lovely... Join me."

***  
The feeling didn't go away. The throbbing just wouldn't stop. She was beginning to realise how starved she was of physical affection, with Garritius away on business most of the time and sleeping with other women than her, she suspected. The spark had gone between them and up until now, she had been fine with sparse sexual contact. Until Iania started sharing her bed... She woke up, the Pompeiian night ghostly dark outside of her window. She didn't even have to wait for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she had her strong features memorised like a photo in her head and didn't need light to look at her. She sensed her so keenly, face only an inch away, feeling her breath waft gently over her collarbone... The worst part was her warmth and her scent on the pillow next to her and she couldn't help breathing her in, in time to the craving of her body and the heat in her core, making her seriously consider waking her up and... She wasn't sure what would come next, begging her to kiss her? She even considered touching herself, right there next to her, but she knew she couldn't, it would certainly wake her up... Iania moved and whispered something quietly in her sleep. Her voice... Leather against sea silk. Smoke and honey. That voice made her head messy and her body respond in ways it shouldn't and couldn't be predicted. Maura Ilia usually didn't like messy, not one bit. But this was such sweet torture. She allowed herself to touch one of the black locks, gently enough not to disturb her sleep. Iania's hand rested against her chest and she so desperately wanted to take it in her own, but she refrained. But only with difficulty. It took her hours to fall asleep again.

***  
The next day, when Iania returned from her scouting mission on the town, expecting their usual quality time in the bath house, Maura Ilia tried to politely decline her help.

"Iania... You don't have to do that, I can do it myself."

"Yes, Domina."

Iania switching to formal latin was like cold water on her hot skin, they usually spoke greek. For some reason, this had offended her. But... It wasn't meant that way, it was just... Maura Ilia honestly thought she might go mad if she ran her hands all over her again. She simply wasn't sure if she could hide how worked up it made her, this time. And she wouldn't be able to sleep with Iania's scent and warmth so close to her being that aroused, it was like torture. She already had dark circles under her eyes from last night's lack of sleep. And she literally didn't trust herself...

"Iania... Please don't call me domina."

There were several reasons for not wanting Iania to call her domina. The most important was that she was her friend. Mars Ultor, she was her only friend! Maura Ilia had never felt so comfortable with another person in her life, male or female, as she did with Iania. Making her call her domina didn't feel right. This was a partnership, not an ownership. But there were other reasons. Maura Ilia blushed to even think about them, they were wicked reasons... Having Iania call her domina, the sound sliding like silk against her inner ear, reminded her that she could ask her to touch her, in the worst possible way and she couldn't say no. She was her slave, it wasn't an option. Making Iania touch her like that... And pretend it was a simple case of being a domina with a taste for the exotic, pretending like there wasn't this current of something else between them, like she was a domina who wanted what was the right of the dominus of the house: free access to the sexual favours of slaves... It would be so easy. It would be so satisfying... Just to tell Iania where she wanted her hands, her tongue, with the reasonable assumption that these orders would be obeyed. There was a tiny part of her brain that considered this option. But then there was the rest of it, the rest of her... And therein lay the problem. Because the rest of her abhorred the idea. These were the same parts of her that went soft and warm inside at the sound of her voice and was soothed by her touch, like a snake by its charmer. That part of her felt more like Iania's slave than the other way around. That part dreamt of black curls flowing over her shoulder as they slept tangled together as one, dreamed that she shivered with pleasure as Iania whispered in greek that she loved her and touched her like she was something precious.  
Not having Iania call her domina helped her keep these thoughts somewhat at bay. Somewhat...

She accepted Iania's assistance again. And she had been right, it was like torture. And she never wanted it to stop.

Maura Ilia's soft linen towel was crumpled on the floor, too far away for her to be able to reach it. Iania froze for a moment before she crouched down and picked it up. But she didn't hand it over. Her eyes roamed over Maura's naked body as she ascended slowly looking for it.

Had it been a man looking at her like that, it would have been beyond indecent. As it was, Iania's scrutiny was bordering on insolent... But Maura Ilia loved it. Her body sang under Iania's gaze. With an inscrutable look, she finally handed her the towel.

"It's wet. Would you like me to get another one, domina?"

"Don't call me that."

Not now, not naked, not aching for her...

They bickered good naturedly on the way back from the bathhouse. Maura Ilia tackled it with gusto, welcoming the break from pondering the physical side of their relationship.

"Not many dominas would put up with this kind of abuse from their domestic help, you know."

"Not many slaves would put up... Actually, they probably would... Anyway, I'm so bad at domestic stuff it hardly qualifies as help."

She smirked at Maura Ilia. She had once again noticed how her weird, sweet domina avoided referring to her as a slave. And she loved her for it... Every flawless, milky white inch of her... Iania scowled as she tried to get rid of the recurring image of her owner in the baths, naked and sighing under her touch. She should keep her mind on her having saved her life, not the way her skin felt...

"Hmmm... I'd say that there are some things you are surprisingly good at..."

They sat down in the flower garden and Maura Ilia proceeded to tell her all, literally, about the irrigation system that allowed them to maintain all of this greenery the year round.

"It's all greek to me", Iania said cheerfully and laid down on the lush grass and closed her eyes.

"Actually, that was all latin."

She opened one of them and saw Maura Ilia lying down beside her.

"You are SO literal. It's a figure of speech."

"No it isn't. Saying something once isn't a figure of speech."

When she peeked again, it looked like Maura Ilia was sleeping.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm praying to Isis, it's too stressful to argue with you."

It wasn't true, of course. She was thinking about how fascinating it was that Iania's black hair got all sorts of strange purple reddish, even blue highlights in the bright sun. It was very pretty. But she couldn't say that...

"Really? I'm being stressful? You talking Aristotle talk isn't stressful?"

"Not at all, it's educational. And I don't talk like Aristotle, he is wrong on several accounts, I'm sure of it. His calculations on astronomy..."

"Lalalalala"

Iania made a singsong noise and covered her ears.

"Barbarian.."

"Hey, I heard that! That's a greek word, you people are the barbarians."

"Shush. I'm praying."

"_Shush? _Did you just 'shush' me? Really?"

"Mhhmm"

Her eyes were still closed, but she couldn't keep the big smile off her face. Arguing with Iania was one of her very favourite things.

The next thing she knew, she woke up from a drop in temperature. The shadow of Garritius Farfilius felt cool against her sunwarm skin.

"I didn't mean to... Disturb you." he said acerbically as he looked down at Iania's arm slung around her waist. She must have moved in her sleep, they didn't start off like that.

"Iania was kind enough to practise greek conversation skills with me. It seems we happened to fall asleep."

"So... Your slave is graciously giving you lessons. I didn't know you needed... Greek conversation, there never used to be anything wrong with your conversation skills."

"Oh but you know me, Garritius. I'm always striving to improve."

Iania stirred and yawned, slowly sliding her warm hand off of her, Garritius eyes shooting daggers.

"Sweetie... What's the time? Oh... You."

"Oh, you? I am your Dominus, you will treat me accordingly, or I will sell you as a whore, I swear it. Stand up."

Maura Ilia stood in her place.

"Iania belongs to me, I ransomed her with my own money. Kindly mind your manners!"

"She might be yours, but may I remind you that roman law forbids women to own property, so therefore she is mine: as are you!"

"Unless they are widows. Women can own property if they are widows."

Maura Ilia had merely meant it as a statement of fact, just correcting an error he made, but he obviously construed it as a provocation. He turned and stormed off again. before he went out the gate, he turned around again.

"Make no mistake, we will be addressing this when I get back!"

Iania threw her head back and laughed mirthlessly, a hoarse, sensual sound. She loved baiting Garritius Farfilius...

Suddenly, Maura Ilia felt furious. Iania was creating a potentially very problematic situation...

"You have to stop acting like this! He's my husband, he deserves some respect!"

"I've met many men like him, entitled bastards. He doesn't deserve your respect, he doesn't appreciate you, like..."

"Like what!?"

Maura Ilia was shouting now.

Iania looked at her and she felt mesmerised by the dark storm on her face and how her eyes burned. What did it mean, she had seen it before?

"Nothing!"

She stormed off in a huff, like a petulant child.

Maura sat down on a marble bench and lowered her head into her hands. Not only was her marriage an apparent failure, she had acquired a very high maintenance slave to complicate things further. And she was already sorry she had shouted at her... No one had ever had this effect on her. She touched the place where Iania's arm had rested on her stomach. It was still warmer than the rest of her...

She sat down to read, uneasily. It was like she hardly knew what to do with her time when Iania wasn't around, these days.

Finally, the book managed to reclaim her attention and she spent a few hours catching up on her reading, even though she couldn't help glancing at the sundial quite frequently. She knew it wasn't her husband's return she anxiously awaited...

She looked up and finally there was Iania, sauntering through the gates with all of her attitude, in all of her wide shouldered, swaggering, confident glory. Walking like she was the commander of an army and not a slave. The sun shone off her raven hair and Maura Ilia could see from the colour of her prominent cheekbones that she hadn't stayed in the shade. She thought her heart would stop, she wanted her so much... She had to remind herself that she was upset with her and to control herself not to run into her arms.  
Their eyes met and Iania strode towards her. She opened her hand and in it was a beautiful little golden bird, made of pastry, filled with nuts, almond and honey.

"The best in Rome, didn't know you could get them in Pompeii.. My trainer Korsakos got me one of these when I survived my tenth fight."

"Is this an apology or a bribe?"

"Neither. I just thought you'd like to try one."

Maura Ilia felt her heart sink. She had yelled at her and run away and made her worry for hours and it didn't even merit an apology?

"Did you threaten the vendor to get this? I don't remember you bringing any money." She heard how cold her tone of voice was, but she couldn't help it.

"NO! Really?"

Iania turned around and stormed back towards the gates, but made a sudden stop. Maura Ilia could see the tension in her back. Slowly she turned around. She noticed how gently she still cradled the little bird in her hand and Maura Ilia's eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that."

Iania was still looking down. Maura Ilia went up to her and cupped her cheek.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have shouted at you."

She took the little bird and broke one of it's dainty wings off and gave it to her friend. She broke the other one for herself. They shared it like that, equally. Iania had been right, it was absolutely delicious.  
Iania secretly itched to use her lips to remove the tiny crumb of pastry in the corner of Maura Ilia's mouth.  
When they had finished it, Maura Ilia glanced at her servant while she was licking the last of the sticky honey off her fingers, following the path of her tongue with a beating heart.  
She sat down to read again and motioned for Iania to join her. But she didn't pick up the scroll about Egyptian herbal medicine, she longed for something else.

"What are you reading...?"

"Oh, just... Some entertainment..."

"The learned Maura Ilia, reading for mere entertainment! I'm shocked!"

Before she had time to react Iania pulled the scroll out of her hands and glanced down at it.

"It's... The original edition of Sappho..."

"You know Sappho...?"

"Come on, I'm Greek. Me not knowing Sappho would be like you not knowing who was emperor."

"Actually, I can list all Roman emperors and Etruscan kings with correct dates and in order of ascension."

"Of course you can."

Iania's hand slid down the scroll, stopping pensively when she reached a page in the part about marriage.

"I love this one..."

_He is more than a hero_  
_he is a god in my eyes—_  
_the man who is allowed_  
_to sit beside you — he_

_who listens intimately_  
_to the sweet murmur of_  
_your voice, the enticing_

_laughter that makes my own_  
_heart beat fast. If I meet_  
_you suddenly, I can't_

_speak — my tongue is broken;_  
_a thin flame runs under_  
_my skin; seeing nothing,_

_hearing only my own ears_  
_drumming, I drip with sweat;_  
_trembling shakes my body_

_and I turn paler than_  
_hay. At such times_  
_death isn't far from me. _

As Iania read the poem with conviction and a surprising talent for delivery, she didn't look up from the page. It was just as well: Maura Ilia couldn't take her eyes off her hauntingly beautiful face.

When she had finished, having to fight to keep her voice steady, she looked up and saw Maura Ilia's eyes still on her. If her husband had ever looked at her like Maura Ilia did now, she would have forgiven him everything and anything. She looked at her lips and remembered what they felt like... She promised herself she would kiss Maura Ilia at least once more before she died. And this time it would be real...

It was like Maura Ilia could see her infatuation grow exponentially and take seat next to them, telling her it was called Love now and would she please pay attention to it.  
Annoyed, she looked down at her sleeve and tried to brush her heart away.

That night, Garitius Farfilius came home and summoned her to his quarters. She disliked when he sent a slave to fetch her like that and he knew it, but she tried to keep her temper in check. There had been enough conflict between them lately.

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Maura Ilia was more surprised at how surprised this made her than anything else... He was her husband, she should expect him to want to exercise his conjugal rights occasionally. But there was an increased urgency to it this time, almost a desperation. Maybe he had already sensed what she realised as he lowered her onto the bed: that he was slipping from her mind, her own husband becoming peripheral in her existence. She didn't mind touching him as much as question the point of it. They had become strangers long ago. Once, she had yearned for his affection, for him to hold her for longer than the dutiful few minutes he would embrace her stiffly after sex, before turning over and falling asleep. Now, she felt merely annoyance.  
He was too heavy handed, as usual. She had always had to remind him to be more gentle when he touched her breasts, her sex or some of the other places that required a lighter touch. Subtlety had never been his strong suit. He was an impatient man and gradually, she gave up on trying to teach him that it took longer for her than him to get there. Or at least, that's what she assumed was the problem that caused her not to climax with him generally, unless she helped herself when he had turned over.  
She heard the sharpness in her own voice as she told him to be careful when he pawed her breasts. At the same time, she understood him and forgave him. Her behaviour with Iania had to be provocative for a lover who was considered to be her rightful lord and master, she knew they created a little circle of intimacy around them that she markedly excluded him from.  
He surprised her by asking what she needed, how to enhance her pleasure. She didn't know what to tell him. To talk to her in Iania's smoky voice, to touch her with the same deep commitment she did, to make his well manicured hands into her rough, scarred palms that calmed and excited her at the same time in a special way she couldn't describe? To arouse her to the point of distraction just with a casual touch? He could do none of that for her.  
She told him patiently that she was fine, this was fine, everything was fine. It was partly true. She didn't care that he failed to excite her sexually anymore. She just wanted him to take his pleasure so she could go back to her bed and the sleep warm woman lying there waiting for her.  
He didn't buy it, but didn't push the matter further. She felt a profound sense of sadness as she noticed how he made an effort to hold her and be tender with her afterwards. Staking his claim in another way, since trying to discipline her certainly didn't work... She laid there counting the minutes until he considered his duty done and turned his back to her and fell asleep.  
She waited for a few minutes more to be sure he was out before gathering her clothes and leaving.

But there was no Iania in their bed, no sleepy smile to greet her as she came back. She walked out into the garden and saw a familiar tall figure sitting on the grass in the middle of the second atrium. Next to her was the also familiar shape of an amphora with its wax seal broken. As she got closer, she identified it as the cheap cooking wine they stored for sauces and stock.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yes."

"That wine isn't meant to be drunk straight."

That was beside the point and she knew it, but she was so surprised it had just come out.

"It's good enough for the likes of me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Come on, put that away, you can't drink that stuff. Come to bed with me.

"No. I'm going out to get some more."

"Iania... You can't go..."

"Why? Because I'm your slave?

She gave her a contemptuous look and walked towards the gates like that decision was easily made.

"No... Because I miss you every minute we're not together."

Iania didn't hear her and it was probably for the best, she knew that. She sat down on the edge of an ornamental flower bed and cried.

***  
Iania started running as soon as she got past the gates. Speed was still on her side, her most important tool of survival besides rage. The tears running down her cheeks dried on her neck as her fluid pace put several blocks between her and Maura Ilia's house. She knew she would be well within her rights to have her whipped or even killed for this blatant defiance, but she also knew she wouldn't, which was a dangerous knowledge to have. She was acting horribly to the woman who had saved her life. But the feelings Maura Ilia evoked in her were so raw, she found herself having trouble controlling them. She stopped, chest heaving, outside of a shady caupona. She had a few copper coins in the pouch in her belt, enough for a few cups of very questionable wine. She was intoxicated already, but not as much as she should have liked. She took a sip of wine and made a face. Awful. But no matter, it would do the trick. Or at least she hoped it would... She tried to exercise the feeling of red hot jealousy and despair when Maura Ilia had gone to see her husband tonight and not come back for hours. She hadn't even needed to see the kiss mark she was probably unaware of, next to her collarbone, to know she had been in bed with him. There was no great mystery there, they were husband and wife, she should have known that their intimate nights in the same bed, touching in passing, not quite venturing into full on cuddling but so close that it made her ache, had to come to an end. That Maura Ilia wouldn't be spending her nights with her forever, telling secrets and brushing her fingers over her hand when they talked and sometimes just looking at her, wide eyed and trusting like a child.

***  
In the middle of the night, she awoke to the sound of gentle, if a bit unsteady footsteps.  
She should have felt angry or happy or something along those lines, something powerful. But she was emotionally drained from crying and from not understanding and for the first time since they met, she didn't want Iania's company, she just wanted to be left alone.

"He doesn't deserve you."

"That's not really for you to say, is it? My marriage is none of your business."

Maura Ilia could almost feel Iania's hurt at her words as if she had been hurt herself. But she couldn't help it.

"No, domina."

Maura Ilia turned over and curled into a stiff, sad ball.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Do whatever you want."

She groaned as soon as the soft steps left her chamber and padded towards the servant's quarters. Of course she was immediately sorry she had sent her away and had to control herself not to go after her. She stared up into the beautifully decorated ceiling. She had never cared much about the typically Pompeiian cult of Venus and had secretly wished that something other than the goddess' birth from the foamy sea had been painted there. But now she stared into the face of the foam born.

"This is all you fault. You know that, right?"


	6. Anima mea

A/N Iris is a real Pompeian weaver and likely prostitute who is the star of a series of well known graffiti about whether or not she has any interest in Successus... Glyco is the star of another well known graffiti. Amaryllis is real, but she probably wasn't BFF with Iris, but you have to give me some poetic license... Lesbian sex was referred to a Greek sex in several sources, didn't make that up. Cunnilingus was considered to extraordinarily dirty, since it was demeaning for a man to take on the passive role with a woman. For a patrician lady to perform it on a slave. Big nono... Just fyi :)

Also: will be travelling for a few weeks, so it's unlikely there will be updates. If I can find the time, I'll try to write and if not I will try to make it up to all you ten who enjoy these shenanigans later ;)

Iania was waiting for her in the garden next morning, her face like an open book.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk yesterday. I didn't mean to..."

Maura Ilia could see the earnestness, but that didn't mean she didn't demand an explanation.

"What happened? Why were you acting like that?"

Iania shrugged uncomfortably. She just couldn't tell her, so she was trying to find a plausible excuse with little success.

"I guess I just don't know how to do this. If I could hate you, it would be easier... I don't know how to behave around an owner I actually like. I guess I don't know how to behave anymore at all."

Maura Ilia looked at her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. As far as explanations went, this one was vague, bordering on meaningless. But she had never walked in a gladiatrix' shoes, so who was she to say it didn't make sense?

"Let me make it up to you?"

"How?"

"Let me show you how regular people live. Come out with me tonight."

Maura Ilia's heart sped up. A journey through the parts of town she had no access to, with a guide who knew all the worst Pompeii had to offer... It was simply an offer she couldn't refuse. Her curiosity wouldn't let her...

"Won't I embarrass you?"

"Almost certainly. But didn't I embarrass you yesterday?"

"How about constantly?"

"Funny. You're a funny woman. But I'll take that as a yes."

For once, Iania picked an outfit out for Maura Ilia, not the other way around.

Iania smirked knowingly at the unhappy look on her owner's face when she saw the plain tunic and almost unadorned stola she had put out for her.

Maura Ilia held the tunic up.

"This has a stain on it?"

"I know. It's mine, I spilled wine on it last week. It will make you blend in."

"Stains will make me blend in...?"

She wasn't so sure she wanted to visit a place where cleanliness wasn't a virtue... But when she saw Iania's teasing smile, she knew she had to buck up. This place they were going was probably not a place where fashion or exquisite craftsmanship were in high demand.

"You'll have to trust me on this."

Maura Ilia sighed.

"I guess if I'm going to the bad part of town, I should at least do it in the proper  
clothes..."

"And you can't look like that."

"I can't?"

Iania shook her head and pulled all of the pins out of Maura Ilia's artful hair arrangement, making it tumble loosely down her shoulders. Maura Ilia just about managed to hold in a comment about how long that had taken to put up and how such an arrangement was really an artform...

Iania ran her hands through her hair, messing it up, sighing inwardly at fact that she seemed only to make it better... Maura Ilia should always have bedroom hair, in her opinion. A few pins put back here and there made a simple hairstyle that would arouse no suspicions in the neighbourhood they would be moving in.

Walking towards towards the disreputable parts of Pompeii, she noticed how the wall graffiti changed gradually and became more explicit and to the point.

_Glyco licks pussy for an as_

Maura Ilia was far from a sexual prude, but she found herself slightly embarrassed by the thought the blunt statement invoked. An as... She had a feeling Glyco was selling himself too cheaply. But on the other hand, she had never met Glyco, he might not be good at it. But it was considered such a dirty act and so demeaning for a man... For any person in a dominant role. She threw a glance at Iania, walking with a confident stride next to her. She bent her head down to contain the expression on her face as the image of Iania doing it to her flashed before her. Or how it would feel to do it to her slave... She knew there weren't many things she would deny her. To the contrary, almost everything about her excited her.

The streets grew more and more narrow and less well kept. She stopped and looked around.

"Are we walking towards the Nucerian gate?"

No decent person would ever be caught near the Nucerian gate. The street prostitutes that gathered there were far from the worst people you were likely to run into. She had treated poor people many times, some distraught soul would show up at the door and she would take the huge Moorish doorman as her bodyguard and follow the needy person to the sickbed of someone who couldn't afford a doctor. But never as far out as the Nucerian gates...

Iania stopped outside of a very shady looking caupona. Maura Ilia had never even been close to a cheap wine bar like this in her life... It was all very exciting. She wrinkled her nose daintily when she stepped over the threshold. Iania looked at her and laughed. Maura looked back to gauge if she had done something wrong.

"Yup. It smells in here. The patrons of this establishment don't bathe in rose water and have their milky skin moisturised by almond oil, you know."

"Neither do I!"

Iania rose a sceptical eyebrow.

"It's silphium seed..." Maura Ilia mumbled self consciously. But Iania's laugh was so infectious and her eyes so kind and soft when she looked at her... Maura Ilia couldn't help but laugh herself, while Iania's hand stroked her lower back reassuringly. Too familiar. But everything about them had been too familiar, from the beginning.  
As they sat down at the rickety counter, she glanced at Iania and saw her smile at a scruffy little man at the other side of the bar. She seemed so different now, from the furious fighter she had first met. Her body language was different too. Maura Ilia smiled as she thought of how the warmth from Iania's firm thigh and angular shoulder against her own made her feel calm and excited at the same time...

"Hi. I'm Amaryllis. This is Iris. Can we sit here?"

Maura Ilia bobbed her head enthusiastically.

"Of course!"

Iania introduced herself and her owner simply as "Iania and Maura", not to draw attention to her rank. She liked it. She liked being just Maura, sitting here with her friend, who was just Iania.

"Can you believe that he wrote on the wall that I suck cock for two as! Bastard!"

"Yeah, he's a right bastard!"

Iris raised a sympathetic glass.

"I would charge at least 3 as for that, especially if it was someone in from the street. And he'd have to bring his own washcloth too, I ain't doing no filthy sod from the gods knows where without a proper wash."

Maura Ilia laughed heartily at the bold and crude comments. She found these two diamonds in the rough to be lovely company.

"Excuse us ladies, we're gonna go take a piss."

"They're real characters, aren't they? Their sense of humour is very racy..."

"They weren't actually joking..."

"What do you mean?"

"They're hookers, Maura. Prostitutes. They actually do sell fellatio for money."

Maura Ilia felt her chin drop.

"But... they said they were weavers...?"

Iania grinned at her.

"They are. By day..."

Maura Ilia just stared at her. A big smile spread slowly on her face.

Iania thought that no sunrise could be more beautiful than that smile. She had to fight the urge to bend forward and kiss her dimples. That would certainly wipe them off, she thought ruefully and sighed. Still, it was a Hades of a smile...

"Iania, that's wonderful! So exciting, I've never met a prostitute before! Do you think they would mind if I asked them some questions? I suppose it would look strange if I made notes?"

"Maybe a little..."

Iania looked teasingly at her. Maura Ilia tried to contain her enthusiasm. She didn't want to lose the strange feeling of belonging in this place by acting out of the ordinary.

"So... Prostitutes, huh?"

Iania's eyes glittered with mirth and she couldn't contain a joyous laughter, a husky sensuous sound and made that little gesture where she subconsciously raised her hand to her face, almost as if she was ashamed of her own joy.

Maura Ilia looked on, enraptured. Iania hadn't laughed like this in front of her, heartily and joyfully, like she instinctively knew she had laughed before they took her. Benevolent chuckling at one of her comments, but not raucously, out of joy... There was a dull throbbing in her belly, an itch in her fingers. Iania's laugh was an aphrodisiac. She wanted to touch her so badly, she was starting to rethink this third cup of spiced wine... Getting intoxicated in public was just the last in a long row of things that would ostracize her from polite society if it were found out... Drinking too much wasn't even the real problem, women weren't even supposed to visit places like this, not to mention patrician ladies.  
She now knew why. It was way too much fun. If Roman matrons knew that this secret underworld existed, they'd ignore the weaving and management of the household and spend their nights talking to raucous prostitutes and drink cheap wine... And probably imagine what it would be like to kiss gladiators... She looked at Iania's mouth as she was talking. Just like the rest of her, it was a contradiction. Her upper lip drew a strict, disciplined line across the lower part of her face. Her full lower lip spoke of a softness and a kissability that made her ache to do just that. She desired both her fierceness and her sensuality.

After making an appointment with Iris and Amaryllis to meet up again next Friday, Iania cheerfully promising to beat up "that annoying arsehole Successus" who apparently was stalking Iris and demanding not only her attention, but also a service that Maura Ilia gathered usually cost as much as 3 as for free, they left the caupona pleasantly drunk. Maura Ilia was a bit unsteady on her feet and Iania put an arm around her shoulders and she answered by putting an arm around her waist and they walked entangled like that, until Maura Ilia stopped and pulled Iania close.

"This has been the best night of my life. Thank you..."

Iania cupped her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. Something in the air around them changed and she leaned forward...

"Fricatrix..."

Iania looked up, danger flaring up in her dark eyes at the insult.

"Leave it..."

Maura whispered soothingly in her ear. She could sense her heart pound furiously and see her pulse throb irregularly. She had seen this fury in Iania before and she loved and feared it in equal parts. She knew it was why she had survived for this long, against all odds.

"Greek... I should have known it. See you're enjoying a bit of the Greek sex lifestyle. _Tribas..._"

The disdain dripped from the man's voice as he leered at them and spat on the ground.

Suddenly, the fury hit Maura Ilia as well. Her whole life, people had been telling her what to do and how to behave. She was done. She let go of Iania and straightened up. Defiantly, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, that's right. She's my love slave, we sleep together every night. You're right to be jealous: she's the best lover in Pompeii. If you just knew the things she can do with her tongue..."

She smiled sensually at Iania, who had the " racehorse caught in the torchlight of a chariot" look on her face and then turned her gaze back to the man.

He approached them, a look somewhere between disgust, anger and desire.

"Come on on then, love, show me... Daddy's going to play with you both for a while."

He pulled a short dagger out of his belt and reached out for Iania. Maura Ilia realised she wasn't even afraid.

"Be careful."

She looked imploringly at Iania. They both knew she meant to be careful so she didn't hurt him too much.

Iania caught his hand in a firm grip, mid motion. She was keeping herself in check for Maura Ilia's sake. The words she had just uttered had made her heart race. She wanted them to be true so much it frightened her. She almost welcomed this distraction, the soothing clarity of being in a fight she knew how to win. Unlike the fight for Maura Ilias heart: she had no clue what she was doing in that particular battle...

"You know what else I can do? Win 46 fights in the arena. The last time against a man about your size."

Maura felt a lack of restraint like she never had before. Iania brought a whole set of emotions out in her that she hadn't known she possessed.

"Show him, darling..."

The endearment rolled off her tongue so perfectly, like she had said it many times.

His face fell a little, but there was still a hint of a smirk. Then Iania looked him in the eye and he knew. He knew he could end up in this gutter dead in a few moments.  
In the short time it took for the man to panic and try to run away, Iania had already made a sickening cracking noise, twisting his arm back and forth so fast Maura Ilia hardly saw it. He fell to the ground with a howl. The arm was probably not broken, but she didn't envy him the pain he was in. As he was clutching it, rolling on the ground, Iania took her hand.

"Run!"

And they did, through the most disreputable streets of Pompeii, past the whores and the beggars and the thieves, past the young drunken men on their way to slum it in the pleasure houses and the old men with bored expressions telling them that this was neither the first not the last vice they had indulged in. Past the toga washer woman and her tub of stinking yellow, past the fake blonde selling false hair from Germania and past the sausage vendor, yelling 'Hillae! Hillae!' promising no extra charge for the "finest garum in town".

When they stopped, Maura Ilia's heart almost stopped too: Iania threw her head back and laughed again. They looked at each other and the intensity in Ianias eyes made her knees weak. She couldn't help it, she knew the situation had been precarious, but it was all so strange and oh so taboo for a noblewoman, so she had to laugh with her. She leaned her head against Iania's shoulder while laughing so hard she almost fell over.

The stars in the eyes of the the wellborn Maura Ilia almost broke Iania's heart. Was her life so poor and devoid of content that a simple visit to a raucous caupona could make her shine like this? This woman, the only one she had met who deserved the privilege she had been given because of the infinite kindness of her heart? Who deserved to have her face described by someone else than her, a poet, a fresco painter... Someone who knew how to capture her eyes; the trust in them, while putting her life in the hands of a stranger? The transparent fair skin on her eyelids... She had an urge to touch, to ghost over them... Her lips felt as if it had already happened, like there was a memory of it. She had loved Maura Ilia from the first moment they met, because of her kindness, compassion and defiance. But had no idea what to do with all these feelings growing within her since then. She had sworn to not let them complicate her life in her Domina's house. But she had a feeling it was already too late...  
When Maura Ilia wrapped her arms around her neck and hugged her tightly, she knew. Nothing had made her weak in the knees like her touch. Fighting in the arena, trying to survive Carolus Hoitus, being taken from her home: nothing had made her feel so vulnerable. Suddenly, her heart ached. She couldn't bear it, being so close, yet nowhere near close enough. She felt an appetite for destruction, to ruin her own happiness, since she knew it was fragile enough to eventually be broken by someone other than her. Abruptly, she let go of her.

"I take too many liberties, I'm sorry. I should get you home."

"What do you mean? You're not taking liberties, I asked you to take me here tonight and came of my own free will. I've had a wonderful time."

"I would understand if you wanted to sell me to someone else, I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"Sell you!? Are you out of your mind? You're my FRIEND, I'm not going to sell you! I'll sign your release tomorrow if you yearn to go away and live like a freedwoman! But please don't insult me by suggesting I treat you like a common slave, because you know that's not true!"

Maura Ilia had gone from euphoric to enraged in a matter of seconds. Only Iania could do that to her...

Iania stopped and spun around to face her.

"I don't want to be your _friend_!"

It was the cheap wine talking, Iania knew she should shut her mouth and not open it again until she was sober.

Maura's chin dropped and her eyes filled with tears. Nothing had hurt her like that statement.

"What do you want from me?"

She could hardly get the words out, since she was afraid she might break down and cry like a baby.

"Please, don't ask me."

"I am your Domina, answer me!"

She had never even been close to pulling rank on Iania before and she was immediately ashamed that she had done it.

Iania took a step closer, dangerously close and Maura Ilia had a sudden flashback to how this fragile woman had looked in the arena.

"Yes, Domina."

The answer dripped with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Iania shocked her by taking her hand and pulling her closer.

"See... I take liberties."

Maura looked up into her eyes and was blown away by their beauty, even though she was furious.

"I don't want to be your friend. I want to sleep in your bed in a different way. At night, I dream I'm Garritius Farfilius and you're mine."

For once, Maura Ilia didn't say anything. It was like she had been holding her breath since they met and was now finally able to breathe.

So far she had simply assumed that sex was overrated, that it wasn't like what they wrote about in poems and songs or even in the slightly pornographic epigrams that circled around and people read in secret. That sex was pleasant enough, but the descriptions of ecstasy were poetic license. After all, her husband was very handsome: a truly attractive man and there were a great many ladies who had assumed she hadn't heard their whispers about wanting to be in her shoes on her wedding night.

She trembled as she slid her hand up and cupped Iania's neck. When she kissed her, one brush of her lips and her body was ready. It was graceless, she demandingly shoved her tongue into her mouth; her grip on her hip was bruising, but she truly couldn't help herself. She could hear blood rush through her own veins as she pressed the gladiatrix hard up against the rough wall.

Iania froze for a moment, her senses in overdrive from being exposed to all this softness. She fought an urge to run away. When the gods want to punish you, they answer your prayers, she knew that... But she was obsessed with Maura Ilia, felt an almost violent need to be close to her. She tried to temper herself, her hands were used to breaking skin, not caressing it... She grabbed her hair a little too forcefully while deepening the kiss and mistook the soft whimpering for discomfort, until she looked down into the hazel eyes, now shining almost emerald in the torchlight. There was nothing but hunger there.

"Anima mea."

Iania rarely spoke to her in latin when they were alone. The words made her shiver. It wasn't in her mind, Iania had felt it too...

"Sleep in my bed tonight?"

"I want to be in your bed, but I don't want to sleep..."

Maura smiled against her cheek at her words.

"No, no sleep. Take me home?"

"Pretty picture, isn't it? The love that dare not speak its name. We've been looking for you ladies."

Iania reared her head from another kiss.

"Do you want your other arm broken too?"

But Maura Ilia felt a stab in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't the same man. This was something far more sinister than a horny drunkard. She just knew it.

"Sorry we have to break the party up, but we're here to collect our purchase."

They both turned to face them, there were four of them, huge, muscular men. Maura Ilia could see on Iania's face that she knew she was chanceless against them.

"Your purchase?"

She tried to keep her voice steady, but failed. One of the well muscled men pulled out a piece of paper and nearly shoved it in her face.

"Seems your Dominus decided to make a pretty penny off your love slave. Ain't never seen a price like that for a female before. But I heard she's quite the fighter. Carolus Hoitus said to tell you that he's excited to see you back in the arena."

Maura Ilia saw all the colour drain out of Iania's face. She would have preferred anything to the the look of realisation and silent horror.

"She is MINE, she is going nowhere with you!"

Maura Ilia stood in front of Iania, knowing full well how ridiculous she must look to these mountainous men. She tried to stop the tears from running down her face, tried to keep some semblance of dignity, not for herself, but for Iania. But she couldn't, her heart was breaking in too many pieces.

"Sorry Domina, the law says she belongs to your husband and he's sold her back to the arena. Don't worry, your secret is safe with us, you're not the first patrician lady who has had exotic tastes, we won't tell if you won't. Farfilius warned that you two might be troublesome. Charon."

He nodded to one of the giants. He put his arms around Maura Ilia, effectively pinning them to her sides. The pressure on her ribs was so intense she found it hard to breathe.

She expected Iania to fight them, fight like a wild animal, but she just extended her hands so they could put her in shackles. Maura Ilia tried to kick, bite or even just move, but the man's hold was too competent. He had obviously restrained people before.

"Darling, please... Run. Don't let them do this..." Her voice was more of a sob than anything else.

"I'm sorry. They have the legal right to kill me if I resist and I can't make you watch that."

The leader nodded curtly.

"Wise decision. Let's get her to Hoitus in one piece shall we?"

They started to drag Iania away from her, yanking on her shackles and Maura Ilia could hear herself screaming her name. No nightmare could have prepared her for this moment.

Suddenly, the gladiatrix dug her heels in and managed a brief stop. Looking her in the eyes one final time, with effort she threw her shackled hand up into the air in the gladiatorial salute.

"We who are about to die salute you!"

Her beloved's low voice rang through the alley, making people stop in the street outside. The silently mouthed words , "I love you", so that only Maura Ilia could see, would ring in her head, forever.


	7. Lost

AN: There were an early version of modern multi-storey apartment buildings in ancient Rome, so people were actually living in apartments even then, at least on the Italian peninsula.  
Adoption was extremely common, especially among the upper class, who were haunted by extensive childlessness for most of the height of Roman society. The theory is that the cause might have been lead piping in the plumbing of patrician villas, or the use of lead cooking vessels, which caused just enough of a lead poisoning to render noble ladies less fertile. Equestrians and plebeians were less likely to have use lead, so it wasn't as bad for them.  
Funnily enough, adoption of patricians to plebeian parents were also common. To be eligible for some important public offices, you had to be plebeian, so some patricians were adopted into plebeian families as grownups.  
Roman society was more socially mobile than most people assume.

Sorry about not answering your lovely reviews and DMs like I normally try to do and sorry for taking so long updating. But I have had life in a big way and work has been crazy, so I've honestly not had any time. Thank you to all who have written and complained about this ;)

If you happen to read Subtexts too, I haven't given up, I just decided to focus on one story at a time. But there will be 2, or possibly 3 more for that before I close the book.

**Chapter 6:**

She didn't quite remember how she made her way home. She had run after them, as soon as the giant had let her go, heart pounding desperately in her chest. But they had gotten too far, there was no trace. And this was not the kind of neighbourhood where you could ask people for help. The only thing she could think of was to return home and get one of her servants to accompany her to the arena. If she could stop crying long enough...

During her walk, a scruffy odorous man approached her. She felt no fear as she looked at his dirty face. There must have been something in the desperation about her that told him that this day, this particular day, she was not a good prey to chase, since he backed off and sneaked away.

She looked at herself in the mirror, face red and blotchy from the crying. She washed her face carefully, she couldn't show up to bargain with Carolus Hoitus looking like this, she had to at least try to appear confident. She tried to tell herself that this was probably about the money. Hoitus just wanted to see if he could make her pay an even more exorbitant sum this time... Which she would, of course. He was in an excellent bargaining position.

She couldn't think of Garritius now, there was no more room for rage and sorrow in her mind and heart. She would think about him later when she had Iania back. Not if, when. She kept repeating this to herself as a mantra, as she dressed herself up in all her finest, or rather most expensive jewelery. Her aim was not to look tasteful, decked out in these gemstones, the objective was to look intimidatingly rich; rich enough for it to be worth letting go of your favourite toy to reap the rewards. She brought an emerald necklace, a gift from her father in law, ostentatiously encrusted with stones. She would throw it in to sweeten the deal if Hoyt proved difficult. It was worth an amount that made even her head spin, which was the purpose for that piece of jewellery: for his son to be able to boast about hanging such a piece around his wife's neck. It had nothing to do with aesthetics. It was a simple, and in Maura Ilia's opinion, rather vulgar display of power and wealth.

She had managed to make rage dominate her sorrow and finally stopped the tears from falling down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she straightened up. Then she saw Iania's discarded tunic in the basket to be picked up for laundry... She pulled it out and her scent filled her nostrils. The longing pricked her like the point of a knife. The wrecking sob was involuntary. Only the years of practising supreme self control finally made her cover her face with makeup and clench her jaw against her despair.

All the way to the arena, she tried to keep focused by considering different negotiation techniques, thinking about what sum she would offer as her opening bid. She realised her hands ached from clenching her fists so hard in anger.

She had not expected the message she received when she arrived at the heavy gates.  
Carolus Hoitus had left Pompeii, she was told. She had been so sure this was just the next step in his sick game, the object of which she wasn't sure of: money, power, the fantasies of a damaged mind? But she hadn't expected avoidance. For all she knew, the man from Rome had already slit the throat of the only one she had truly loved.

She threw gold coins on the ground in front of the guards, so that they granted her entrance despite their claims that there was nothing for her to see.  
She ran to Iania's little cell, lungs burning from the exertion. It was empty. The rickety bunk didn't even have a blanket anymore, there were no empty cups, no pieces of armour scattered around the room. Nothing, just silence.  
She kept running, to the equipment room where she seen her beloved tortured and there was still nothing. She felt bile rise in her throat as she saw stains of dried blood still remaining...  
In a last act of desperation, she ran into the arena itself and looked around the entrances and up into the stands for any kind of cue as to what had happened to Iania. But the cursed space remained silent.  
She sat down, sobs wracking her body. She hadn't known that such pain existed.  
She took a fistful of the sand from the last place she had seen her fight and held it to her tear stained cheek and willed her to stay alive, willed her to still be in this world. Because a world without Iania was no world for her...

When the sun went down, one of the gruff doormen who used to taunt her and leer when she showed up, paid a boy one as out of his own pocket to run and get her slave, waiting patiently outside with the carriage. She fought him. Her huge Nubian servant just mumbled a "forgive me, Domina" before restraining her and lifting her forcefully into the carriage. She cried against his tunic all the way home.

When she arrived at her house, she walked straight into Garritius Farfilius study.

There was a drawing of their house on his desk: he was getting a plumber in to look at some problems with the lead piping of the kitchens, he had informed her. She picked it up and studied it. She could see on his face that he expected her to cause a scene. Scream and shout, cry and act out in hysterics. She could tell he wanted her to. A hysterical woman could be conquered and controlled. A worthy adversary was a whole other matter.

She picked the drawing of the house up and tore it in half, the sound magnified by the stone walls of his office. She threw the right half back down in front of him.

"This is your house. You live alone, because after today, you have no wife. We will not speak again. If you have business with me, send a servant."

"But the baths are in your half, what am I supposed to do?"

"You will use the public baths like an honest, hard working citizen. Break any of these rules and I will leave, publically divorce you and take my extensive dowry with me."

She turned her back on him and walked out. She felt nothing. Not for him, not for anybody. Her entire being was filled with absence, there was room for nothing else.

She cried silently, lying on her bed wearing Iania's tunic, with a small sticky patch of honey and a splash of some sort of fruit down the front, the remnants of a carefree picnic breakfast in the gardens. She remembered every detail of their morning, Iania shoving her teasingly, making jokes at her expense, rolling her eyes at her oddities. She had let her have the last strawberry and had picked a flower for her, pretending it was all a joke, to cover up the sincerity, in Iania's usual manner. Even then Maura Ilia had understood that she was showing affection, the nudges her way of seeking physical contact. She had given herself a moment, a brief respite of resting her head on Iania's sunwarm shoulder, before shoving her back. But she hadn't yet understood what the lingering looks, the deep darkness in her eyes when she looked at her had meant. Now she knew. Knew it all, knew what her hands felt like, her skin, how her terms of endearment had made her defenseless, a thirsting woman in an emotional desert, finally seeing help at the horizon. Now the dream had ended, replaced by night terrors as she fell into a fitful sleep, still wrapped in Iania's tunic, dreaming of arenas and mazes, running after her beloved's voice, always just around the corner. _Help me... _But of course she never quite made it.

***  
Someone told her there was an official who might be able to help, a scribe who kept records of gladiatorial games, ludi, lanistas and fights in the Pompeiian arena. A man of knowledge. He might know where Carolus Hoitus' troupe had gone, might be able to help her find them. She made her purse heavy with gold just to be safe, just in case the scribe turned out to be too greedy for silver. He had probably never even seen a gold coin and might not assume he could get that amount, but just to make sure...

The scribe was a pudgy little man, sweating profusely, despite sitting under a portico in the shade outside the public buildings. There was a sadness painted on his face, a melancholy that made her hopeful he would be sympathetic.  
She heard how it sounded when she talked to him: she had lost a valued slave, a dear friend even and she desperately needed to get her back, at any cost. Did he understand how important this was to her and what benefits there could be for an industrious civil servant such as himself for helping the Farfilii?  
Even to her own ears, she just sounded spoiled, a patrician lady who had lost a trinket she was fond of, not a woman mourning a lost love, the bearer of a broken heart. Only Iania understood the tone of her voice, could read between the lines. Only Iania had recognised her restraint for what it really was and would run to her side when she heard pain behind the polite shell. But her upbringing and the strict rules of the higher echelons of so called polite society had apparently ruined her communication skills and her capability of evoking sympathy in others.

The little man stiffly replied that he was privy to no such information: when troupes exited Pompeii, it was no longer his responsibility to keep records of any kind. He wished her a good day and looked down.

"You don't understand... I'm desperate. Please, isn't there anything you can do, I will reward you handsomely..."

"Be that as it may, domina. But you are asking me to research the whereabouts of a slave, sold in accordance with Roman law, who furthermore has left Pompeii. This is not only difficult, but also very far from my job description. May I also remind you that I am a public servant and as such will not look kindly at attempts at bribery."

Maura Ilia had to stop herself from groaning out loud. Had she really managed to find the last incorruptible public servant in Pompeii, as well as the least cooperative? Normally, she would have lauded the man's honesty and considered him a paragon of old Roman virtue. But not today. Today, she wanted him to be greedy and corruptible, for sale for a gold coin, with bendable, adjustable ethics that changed with the size of the bearer's purse. She took a deep breath. She would have to rethink her strategy and come back later. As it was, she was dangerously close to either slapping the man or crying in public, neither of which would further her cause.  
As she thanked him stiffly and insincerely and left, she heard him speak to a colleague. He probably didn't realise that he was audible still, because of the acoustics of the high portico. The little man laughed bitterly.

"She had a slave that amused her and her husband sold her toy. Now she's peeved. Did she really expect me to spend my work days looking for her ladies maid, who's probably snugly stowed away in some Herculanean brothel performing unspeakable acts for money as we speak. How unbearably easy her life must be, with nothing more to worry about than that."

Maura Ilia was hardly even consciously aware of turning back. She didn't recognise her own voice as she slammed her fist down on the table in front of the insolent man and stared into his suddenly startled eyes.

"I was going to offer you money or assistance to thank you for your services. Instead I offer you this: if you do not find the lanista Carolus Hoitus and his gladiator troupe and bring this information to me, I will make sure you never work again as anything other than gloveless cleaner of the public latrine. I don't think you have any idea what a person of my social standing can do to a person like you. And yes, my life is THAT easy. I will ruin you. Do we understand each other?"

The little man mumbled a scared "yes, domina" and bobbed his head vigorously. There was a satisfying fire in her chest as she left with her chin held high, a cold smile on her lips. She much preferred the fuel of rage to the ache in her her chest and the endless stinging tears. The rage at least made her feel alive still.

She went into a shady caupona, just the sort of place she suspected Iania might have gone to to blow off some steam. She ordered spiced wine, not caring about the vintage or the shocked look on the male patron's faces. Women were not seen in places like this during broad daylight. Patrician ladies were not seen in places like this at all. She quickly downed the first cup of wine and ordered a second one, treating it the same way. Her servant Ajax stood outside, looking intensely uncomfortable, but she didn't care. She was her own woman now. Not caring about anything anymore was a restful feeling. The bad but comfortingly spiced wine calmed her and left her with a pleasant numbness.

The enquiries she made for the rest of the day were no more successful than her first one, but the pleasant veil between her and the rest of the world that the wine created made it slightly easier to bear, if not much. She had wine for dinner instead of food that night. She couldn't bear the thought of reality sneaking closer again.

She woke up in the middle of the night in a panic. How could she have acted like that towards that poor man? She sighed. She would have to make amends tomorrow, she knew it. She had to be careful: apparently her own state of despair made her less sensitive to pain in others. She got out of bed and drank a herbal remedy and several cups of water, even though she wasn't thirsty. She knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow after all that bad wine if she didn't. She laid back down and glanced and Iania's tunic, hanging over the back of a chair. Guiltily, she padded over and got it, knowing it would make her cry, but needing to feel her close, even if it was just the remnants of her scent. Feeling equal parts saddened and safe, she fell asleep pressing it to her cheek, absorbing her slowly trickling tears.

The next day, when the little man saw her again, he almost jumped out of his seat and scrambled to stand up.

"Nono, please stay seated."

She sat down on the rickety chair across from his desk.

"You asked yourself yesterday what misfortune could befall someone like me? The answer is that being me has its own misfortunes. I used my money and standing to get me the thing I loved the most in this world and then it was taken away from me and there was nothing my money or my family name could do about it. It gives a false sense of security. The slave I'm looking for? She's the only one I've ever loved. I would give every denarius I own and my name too for one more day with her. Or even an hour. But I had no right to speak to you like that, please accept my apologies."

The little man sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.

"It is I who should apologise. My wife died last month. I couldn't do a thing about it. I kept thinking if I had been rich or important, maybe someone, somewhere could have saved her. Domina, I was disrespectful."

Maura Ilia carefully put a denarius on the table in front of him and patted his hand.

"This is not a bribe, it's so you can buy something nice for your son to cheer him up."

"How did you know I had a son?"

"There's a little wooden horse in your satchel with the name "Marcus" carved on it and since you seem too old for such a toy..."

The man smiled sadly.

"He must have put it there this morning. I'm terrible at this, I'm a terrible father..."

"I'm sure you're not. Grief is just confusing and horrifying, isn't it?"

"Yes, domina, it certainly is..."

As she left the scribe, she felt almost like herself for the first time since Iania disappeared. It had been such a relief to talk to someone who understood. She had seen on the little man's face that in whatever hell she was dwelling, he was right there with her, but without hope.

He came running after her into the street.

"I will find her for you, if it's humanly possible. And take this. He's a friend, very reliable private investigator. He can find a fly in a vineyard."

She took the wax tablet with the investigators name from him and promised to bring it it back. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Maybe... Maybe this Gelus fellow would be able to help her find Iania. She should have thought of hiring a private detective herself. She decided that this irrational behaviour, the constant crying and the drinking and acting out had to end. Iania need her with her wits about her, needed her brain and her actions, not her emotions or her grief. She had worked hard to better herself all her life. This was no different. She was going to do better. For Iania.

When she cried into Iania's tunic that night, she told herself it was the rational thing to do, letting it all out, not holding the sorrow in so it would cloud her judgement during the day. Told herself it was reasonable to whisper her name just because she missed saying it to her. Some lies she was better at than others.

***  
Next morning, she started off early to go see Gelus, before the heat became scorching. Her long suffering servant just nodded when she informed him that they were going to the Aventine, although she could see the dislike on his face. No patricians ever went to the Aventine unless it was for shady reasons. There were honest, hardworking people on the Aventine, but they were few and far between. Mostly the place consisted of ramshackle housing, tiny houses and blocks of flats looking ready to collapse at any moment. And beggars, whores and slumlords. It was nowhere near as bad a subura, but Maura Ilia knew full well that her servant thought she should have nothing to do with that neighbourhood.

Gelus' apartment was on the third floor, up a flight of decidedly rickety stairs.

"This place is a firehazard. And the cross beams aren't sturdy enough to hold the third floor in a house like this. You should speak to your landlord."

"Fortunately, I spend most of my time at my luxury villa in Baiae, so I haven't bothered much with fire and safety."

"You do...?"

Maura Ilia looked at the simply clad man in the tiny apartment quizzically.

"No, domina. Not really."

She felt a flash of embarrassment at not having caught the sarcasm, but the man's face was patient and a little puzzled, not malicious, so she smiled tentatively at him.

"Of course. I'm sorry. But you should consider keeping a vessel of water nearby the vent in case of fire. The vigiles wouldn't get here on time if the fire started from above..."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"With all due respect ma'am, this is the Aventine. We'd be lucky if the vigiles even cared if this house burned in a fire. My landlord sure as Pluto wouldn't care."

"I see... I didn't know that. "

The detective looked at her silk stola, subtly but still richly embroidered with gold and her elegant shoes, looking decidedly out of sorts on the worn and stained wooden floor.

"I guess it's pretty obvious I'm not from here..."

"It is."

She resisted her urge to ask follow-up questions and gingerly sat down on the only other chair in the room, a ramshackle stool.

"I need you to find someone for me."

"Sextus said you've lost a slave?"

Maura Ilia shook her head vigorously.

"I've lost a friend, Gelus Fastidiousus. My best friend."

She pulled out a small painting of Iania. She had commissioned it from the best artist in Pompeii, but the likeness still wasn't perfect. Iania's face defied description.

"It doesn't do her justice."

"Wait a minute... Did she fight in the arena at Veneralia?"

"She did."

"You must have paid a handsome sum for her. She is the best female gladiator I've seen. On par with several of the male ones."

"I paid very handsomely, yes. And not only in money."

Gelus refrained from commenting on that. She liked him, he seemed very professional.

He shuddered.

"I really dislike gladiatorial games."

A sudden realisation hit her.

"You were one once..."

He nodded curtly.

"I managed to buy my freedom."

"I'm glad you survived. You must have been a great fighter."

"Thank you. Frankly, it had more to do with my opponents underestimating me than anything else. They thought I was just a pretty boy with no real skills."

"You know... You and my Iania have a great deal in common."

He looked down on the painting.

"I guess we do, yeah."

"Will you help me?"

"I think I might owe it to my colleague."

"Thank you." Maura Ilia said earnestly, feeling an immense relief. She already felt like she could trust Gelus Fastidiosus and she sensed that the struggle would be easier with him on her side. She started to count out coins in her hand. He gently but firmly put his hand on hers and stopped her.

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Pay me when I find her. I don't charge without knowing I can actually deliver."

"I seem to have found the other remaining honest man in Pompeii."

"I'd like to think so, domina. Let's meet under the portico tomorrow and I can give you an update."

She nodded her agreement. As she walked out, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"Why 'Fastidiousus'?"

The ex-gladiator blushed.

"The sight of blood occasionally makes my dispose of my supper... I know, I know. A gladiator who can't stand blood. Pathetic."

"To the contrary. You have a sound mind in a sound body, it's probably the rest of us that are defective."

***  
That night, she walked out into the garden and looked up at the thick, golden blanket of stars, seeming like they were close enough to touch. She knew they were really aeons away, but if Iania was still alive, she might be looking at the same stars, thinking about her. She knew that there was a third possibility, that she was alive but shut away somewhere where no stars were ever visible. But she hated that thought so much she couldn't bear to think it. She had no idea why these cold beacons made her feel so strongly that her beloved was alive... But they did.

_Come back to me..._She closed her eyes and sent the fervent wish toward their cold, clear presence.

"Hey Rondus. What's happening?"

"Almond! You are a sight for sore eyes. Um-hmmm, you sure are, smellin' good as always! Tas-TY."

He didn't mean anything offensive with his comments, it was just his way of saying it was nice to see her. It was nice to see him too, actually. She knew them all now. Every lady and gentleman of the street, the vagabonds, vagrants and whores, everyone who had ever met Iania, she suspected. They all knew her too. In the beginning, she had been treated with suspicion, but now they treated her like one of them, like a quirky and sometimes incomprehensible member of their gang who just happened to have money in her purse, unlike them. Part of her popularity was the amphorae of wine and the meals she was so free with, but when Iris had come over and shared her meager lunch with her one day, she realised that these people actually cared if she lived or died, unlike Prima Calpurnia and her wellborn ladies, who saw a title, never a person. They all had their sorrows and sufferings. Her sorrow was ironically the key, the thing that had made her human in their eyes. She had almost given up on any of them being able the help her find Iania, but she clung to the desperate hope that one day, one of them, their ears constantly to the ground, would pick up something, some tidbit of information that she would know how to interpret, find someone for her to bribe, someone to threaten, who could at least tell her what had happened to her. She refused to give up. Months had gone by, but she refused to give up. Iania was a part of her. If she was gone, part of Maura Ilia was gone.

"Have a drink with me, Almond?"

He handed her a cracked cup with some sort of horridly sweet concoction. She pretended to take a sip out of politeness, it was a sort of lying that didn't give her a guilty conscience.

She smiled at the handsome man walking towards her, giving a little wave. She hadn't seen Gelus in days. In the beginning, this had made her anxious, but she had learned to trust that he would show up if he found something. After three months, the butterflies in her stomach at the sight of him, the chance that he had found something about Iania, were all but gone. The quest for information about her best friend and would-be lover had been a failure. She hadn't given up, it was just that she had finally taken pity on the suffering look on Gelus' face each time he had to tell her he had no news. For his sake as much as for her own, she had tried to lower her expectations and not be so heartbroken. Instead, she had hidden it away, transforming it to a dull ache in her chest.

He sat down next to her and accepted a slice of fruit from her packed lunch. He ate it politely, but in silence. Maybe he hesitated to bring her more bad news. But finally, he spoke.

"I saw a man this morning. Had a tip about an armourer. His boy had made a delivery to the arena."

Maura Ilia's heart started beating furiously and she was suddenly out of breath, despite sitting down.

"Now... I'm not saying this has to mean something. It could literally be nothing. But the fight tomorrow? Her name was mentioned... Someone said she might be coming back to Pompeii. "

She stood up, hearing the sound of her own blood pumping through her veins. She closed her eyes, as if she could block this onslaught of emotions by shutting the world out.

Gelus touched her arm gently.

"You do know it doesn't mean she's alive right? It could be someone else with the same name. If it really were her, they would probably have advertised it, she's a star, right? So very likely, it's not her. Or we should assume it's not."

"Yes, I understand."

But she didn't really. She was filled with a terrible, all-consuming fire, making her eyes fill with tears and her hand unsteady on Gelus' arm: hope. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

***  
She was looking up at the thick blanket of stars, their cold presence oddly comforting. Or as much as she could see through the narrow crack in the wood... The stars over Pompeii were so bright they hurt her eyes, so accustomed to darkness now. She had no idea why, but they made her feel connected to her still, in some strange way, even though she had no idea if she would ever see her again. But she looked at them and prayed. She had stopped praying years ago, but for her, she prayed.

"Maura... Be there, anima mea... "

***  
Maura hadn't slept a wink that night. She looked a fright when she looked at herself in the metal mirror, dark circles under her eyes and hair that would be a challenge even to her talented maid. For once, she couldn't care less.

She didn't normally in the morning, but she asked for spiced wine with breakfast. Not enough to make her lose her edge, but just enough to calm her frayed nerves... She had to focus not to snap at the servants getting her ready, not to snap at the driver for being so slow, even though she knew that getting there early would accomplish nothing.

Never in her life had she thought she would be back to that vile place. Her stomach turned on the way there and it wasn't the spiced wine that caused it, it was the memory of Iania's pain at the hands of that man. She almost wished she would meet him. She had had daydreams about it, picking a knife out of her sleeve and plunging it into his scrawny white chest... She still wasn't afraid of him. But she was afraid of what the rage could make her do and what he might do to Iania. Since she was adopted, she knew nothing of her real parents. Maybe they were murderers, maybe violence was her heritage. When she thought of Carolus Hoitus, she almost believed that.

***  
The waiting was torturous. The heat was sweltering and the arena was packed, as usual. Sitting still was unbearable. She looked down at her trembling hands and impatiently bobbing knee and tried to calm her body language.  
She felt guilty for being so selfish, but it was almost a relief when the fighting started. The disgust she felt at this practise gave her a welcome relief from the panic she felt that she wouldn't get to see her. And the thought of Iania fighting in front of her, being in harm's way again... The disgust kept the panic somewhat at bay.

An hour passed, she had to focus on the sun to make sense of it, she was so preoccupied. A heavily armed gladiator came into the arena, holding his long spear straight and his shield in the offensive position. A hoplomachus... She relaxed, disappointed. There was no way they were going to team a woman up against such a fighter...  
The challenger was tall, taller than the burly hoplomachus, but much slimmer and equally heavily armed. She frowned. Why burden such a light fighter with armour more likely to wear him down than aid him?

Maura Ilia stood up in her seat. As from afar, she heard a voice.

"Sit down dear, you're blocking the view."

She looked down at Prima Calpurnia.

"Shut it."

The shocked look on the face of the quaestors wife gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction.

Like the gladiator had heard her thoughts, the heavy helmet was pulled off and sweat wiped of a delicate brow. She looked but she didn't see, expecting a stranger, expecting disappointment. But the helmet's wearer was as far from a stranger as she could ever be... The realisation hit her with a jolt, as did the implications of the heavy armour.

_Iania... _She blinked and tried really hard to focus, so it wasn't a trick played by her burning desire to see her again... _Iania... _It was really her. Breathing had become impossible. The armour was punishment, her opponent chosen to be impossible to defeat. Stoically squaring her shoulders, the heavy helmet was lifted back on.

She felt bile rise in her throat and tears in her eyes as the two gladiators clashed and the thin figure was thrown to the ground effortlessly. She managed to scramble to her feet again, but the weight of the armour made her far from the lightning rod she had been with only rudimentary equipment. Iania was strong, she remembered how safe she had felt in her arms, but no woman should be made to fight an opponent of that size.  
Finally, the hoplomachus had his muscular arm around Iania's neck, holding her in a vice like grip against his front, using the other hand to tear off her helmet. His spear was hanging awkwardly by his side. He was just about to throw it away, probably convinced he could snap Iania's delicate neck with his hands only, or just more inclined to use a knife.  
In a swift motion, she grabbed the head of the spear and yanked it away. Whether through chance or providence, she looked right at Maura Ilia, the only one standing among the seated patrician ladies, the despair in the dark eyes visible at even such a distance.  
Maura Ilia's scream was drenched in the deafening cheering of the crowd, as Iania ran the narrow spear straight through her own body. And then on and on, through the soft tissue in the hoplomachus behind her, before bringing them both down on the ground in a spray of blood, the eyes of her adversary revealing that he was already taken over Styx by the ferryman...

"Why such a display over a gladiator fight? I'm sure she was a considerable investment, fighters like that must cost a lot of money. But do try to remember to conduct yourself with some decorum dear, I'm sure there are other gladiatrices for sale, if that's what amuses you. Rather inappropriately, might I add."

The sound of her hand hitting Prima Calpurnias cheek was deafening in the shocked silence after the two gladiators fell dying to the ground.


	8. Damages

She pushed her way through the crowd screaming with a mixture of rage and elation as both bodies were dragged out of the arena, none crowned victor. The hounds had gotten rather more blood than they had been baying for and were deprived of a triumph. Last time, they had been rooting for her beloved, but Maura Ilia doubted that they had seen that the heavily armed gladiator was the famous Iania, who used to be decked out in only the lightest of equipment. Carolus Hoitus had taken even that brief moment of glory from her.

As she fought her way through the chaos, the sight in front of her was horrible. There were footsteps in Iania's blood and she was blocked from view by guards and other gladiators. The room went silent as they gradually realised there was a patrician lady in the underbelly of the arena. Maura Ilia guessed it was a first.

"I'm Maura Farfilia. This woman is the property of my family. I'm medically trained, I can verify her death."

She knew it would break her heart, but she would die before she would let someone else take Iania's body. The group of muscular men present seemed at loss as to how to fight this particular adversary and parted awkwardly for her. She took a deep shuddering breath before putting her fingers against the still warm neck.

Her heart started racing painfully and her breath caught. The pulse was very faint and irregular, but it was there. Life, wanting to live, she could feel it... Pretending still to be monitoring her pulse, she whispered in Iania's ear: "Don't you dare die on me now that I've finally found you. Do you hear me?"

She desperately tried to fight the tears of relief off, but to no avail. As it turned out, this was surprisingly to her advantage. Something unnerved the stone faced arena guards: crying women.

"I would like to give her a decent Roman burial... I'm taking her body with me."

One of the other gladiators stepped forward with an angry face.

"That's not the proper procedure! Veterani gladiators are buried by their peers in their collegia! She belongs in the gladiator burial grounds. It's what we sign up for!"

"I assure you, her rest will be quite dignified close to my family grave. And I don't believe there has ever been a female gladiator buried at Pompeii, am I right? So maybe there isn't a proper procedure? I have the utmost respect for the members of her collegia, but I'm saving you the price of a tombstone. Let me take her and I will be happy to make a donation to the member who would like to buy their freedom."

The sound of silver coins in her purse changed the looks on their faces. She saw that she had used the magic word. Freedom... There was confusion and insecurity now. She had one last trump card...

She summoned one of them closer and whispered: "I'm not sure how Carolus Hoitus will _handle _her body..."

The true meaning of the words hit the gladiator and his upper lip curled in disgust. One of the things she had learned during her painstaking search for Iania these past months was that there were rumours of Hoitus liking to touch women even after they're dead. It was a perversion universally shunned, so she could count on this working in her favour. And she had no problem acting the part of a concerned owner. If she couldn't get them to release Iania, she might very well bleed out here. The mere thought of Hoitus' hand on her pale, still body made her heart beat in panic and terror in her chest.

"What are we supposed to tell Carolus Hoitus?"

"Tell him Maura Farfilia took Proserpina home and paid the ferryman."

She hoped fervently that it was Carolus Hoitus' journey across the river she was paying for, not Iania's, but she had no intention of explaining that.

He looked at her in confusion.

"He'll know."

The gladiator who was obviously the ringleader nodded his head curtly.

Watching the strongest person she had ever known hang like a child's ragdoll in her servant Ajax's embrace as they hurried out into the carriage made it impossible not to cry. The carriage journey back to her house, praying that Iania wouldn't die en route, using a combination of her own hands and torn off pieces of her clothes to try and stop the bleeding was one of the worst moments of her life. If Iania died here, her hands failing at their task, she would never forgive herself.

As she finally managed to put her down on her own bed, screaming at the servants for clean linen and boiled water, retrieving the bag with her collection of herbal remedies, she finally saw the tear in Iania's side well lit. The sudden nausea at the sight of the havoc the spear had wreaked made her defenses fall. She ran outside and vomited into a flower bed. She had never reacted to a wound like that before, but she supposed it was different when it was someone you loved...  
Downing a drink of water to stay hydrated, she asked for some strong wine to steady her shaking hands and her nerves. Desperately scrolling through her texts on emergency medicine while pressing clean linen fabric to the wound edges, she chose a course of treatment with sweaty palm. Praying to the gods of healing in three different cultures that Iania would be too far away to feel pain, she went to work. One hour bleeding into the other and Iania bleeding onto her hands, until rosy fingered Eos caressed her window pane and finally, finally, Iania's broken body settled down. Spear wounds were fatal to an overwhelmingly large degree and she had experienced significant blood loss. But she was a good doctor. And the spear had missed the organs that would cause immediate death. She liked to think that Iania had known this when she pushed the spearhead into her body, that she had chosen the point of entry carefully, trying to survive. Trying to come back to her... Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she was so sure that Iania hadn't tried to end her own life that she didn't mind the speculative nature of her thoughts. Exhausted, she barely managed to change out of her now bloody clothes into a clean tunic before falling asleep on a divan she dragged over to the bed, too fearful of accidentally touching Iania to try and share the bed with her.

***  
Iania's sleep was disturbed by light, a dirty grey streak on the horizon of her dark, peaceful night. Her first sensation was pain. She tried to move her body, but to no avail. She had an intense feeling of being broken, defective. Slowly, she managed to open her eyes and immediately closed them again. The light hurt her (unaccustomed eyes) too much. She made a second attempt.  
She saw a familiar form lying in an awkward position on a couch next to the bed. The dark circles under her eyes (and) and deep shadows on her face made Iania frown. Even that hurt. She didn't remember why she was broken or what had brought her here, but she felt an uncomfortable certainty that she had caused the sorrow on that lovely face. She didn't want to cause people pain anymore. She closed her eyes and let herself drift back into oblivion.

***  
Maura Ilia spent the next day closely monitoring Iania, the gladiatrix' body aflame with fever. She was showing no sign of regaining consciousness, which Maura Ilia knew was a good thing. She would be in too much pain and her body needed to focus on healing itself. She found it impossible to sleep, so she spent most of the night holding her burning hand in hers, in the company of an amphora. She didn't drink much, she needed to be alert if something happened, she just found the taste of wine on her lips soothing. She needed something to hold onto through all these terrors...  
As the cold stars glimmered above them, the exhaustion finally became too much for her and her head fell back against the headrest, slumbering fitfully, Iania's hand still in hers.

The next day was the same and she knew that it probably would be for a while. She forced herself to eat a few bites and walk around the room to avoid her back from hurting too much, she needed to be in reasonable shape to help her. She desperately wanted a bath, but she couldn't bring herself to leave her alone, so she washed herself in a basin in the room, glancing over her shoulder. She wiped Iania's burning brow with a piece of linen dipped in cool water and talked to her even if it made her feel a little foolish.  
The hours ticked by, so slowly... She tried to read, but she found everything irrelevant right now except for medicine and she had no new scrolls on the subject. In the end, she got lost in her own thoughts about how much her life had changed in such a short time, trying to quell her fears about whether the gladiatrix would be able to get through this latest ordeal.

The third day, she took a turn for the worse. Maura Ilia had to take a deep breath and pretend she was treating a stranger, someone other than the one she loved, as she had to cut the wound open and disinfect it, at great risk of making it worse, but she had to do anything to try to break her fever, which was dangerously high. She didn't notice she was crying until she saw one of her own tears fall onto Iania's skin. Was she in pain? Was she aware that she wasn't alone?  
She couldn't bear feeling burning skin under her hands anymore, so she got one of her trustworthy servants to watch her while she quickly lowered herself into the ice cold pool in their bathhouse and forced herself to stay until her teeth clattered. She walked back to her room shivering and covered in goosebumps. As gently as she could, she laid her cool body next to Iania and scooted close. As her icy skin touched her, Iania showed the first sign of life in the contented sigh that escaped her. She flexed her fingers on her uninjured side. She showed no signs of waking up, but look on her face was one of serenity.

One day bled into another, almost identical. The fourth day, she was so exhausted she chanced lying down next to Iania during the night, instead of her place on watch next to the bed. She became an expert at keeping physical contact with her without putting any pressure on Iania's broken body. She knew with her entire being, through the instinct she never usually relied on, that she needed her close. She needed a comforting touch and someone who called her back from whatever treacherous light that urged her away from this world. Sometimes she whispered quietly in her ear: "I'm so sorry I couldn't find you sooner. But I'm never letting you go again. Just come back to me. Please come back..."

Iania heard her voice like it was far, far away, a faint echo. She felt Maura Ilia's warm cheek on her shoulder and smiled. Or at least tried to, but it didn't seem like her face was moving. She wanted to put her arms around her and tell her everything was OK. She tried to tell her she loved her. But the words wouldn't come out. She needed to rest. Then she would kiss the sadness out of her voice... How strange... It seemed to be raining on her right shoulder, warm, slow raindrops... Just a rest, then she would put her arms around Maura Ilia. She allowed herself to sink back into to the comforting darkness. There was that light again. Maybe she should stay there. She was so tired...

"Come back to me, Iania."

_I'm trying, darling... But I'm so tired... Keep saying my name..._

***  
The days went back, one after another. Her bedroom and the woman in her bed had become her entire world, hour after hour focussing on the slightest movement or sign of life from her patient.  
The day Iania opened her eyes again, Maura Ilia had truly began to worry about starvation as a threat to her health as well as the wound, that was healing at a reasonable speed, if not as quickly as she had hoped for. Each time she had to manipulate the wounded flesh, the thought of hurting her made her emotionally exhausted, trying to fight the tears.

She was running a sponge with cool water over her emaciated body, in part to keep her clean and in part to keep her comfortable. It was something to keep her occupied... At first, she thought she had imagined the feather light touch on her hand. But there it was again...

Seeing the dark eyes blink to adjust to daylight and finally resting on her felt unreal, she still wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not. But she knew one thing for sure: it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Iania tried to talk, but her dry and unpractised throat wouldn't let her. Maura Ilia cupped her neck and lifted her head as gently as she could while holding a glass of water to her lips. She could see that even the act of drinking water was painful and exhausting.

"This is not..."

Iania painstakingly cleared her sore throat. She leaned closer, hanging on every syllable.

"... not how I imagined you giving me a spongebath..."

Maura Ilia couldn't help but laugh, laugh with elation at this absurd statement.

"Welcome back..."

She kissed her cheek gently, trembling from relief and elation.

"Tired..."

Iania's eyes flew shut again and Maura Ilia watched her drift off back to sleep. She hadn't smiled in such a long time, her face almost hurt a little from the unaccustomed sensation.

For the next few days, Iania came back to consciousness more and more often, even though she was weak as a kitten and Maura Ilia still worried about dehydration and starvation. But she was awake... Maura Ilia knew she was far from safe and still further from healed, but she couldn't help the hope that was making her almost giddy with anticipation.

Gradually, her concern about dehydration lessened, as she managed to get water past Iania's dry lips. She even made her drink some fruit juice and weak broth, to get her starving stomach used to food again. She wanted to take her in her arms and never let go, but she was so weak, she didn't dare to initiate too much physical contact.  
And she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that Iania seemed much less interested in recuperation than she should have been... She seemed to eat or drink simply because it was easier than refusing. She spent most of her time staring out into thin air, not talking. She didn't initiate any physical contact. Maura Ilia longed for their former closeness to the point of pain. She busied herself with keeping Iania clean and fed to ignore the aching feeling that she still wasn't really there, hadn't really come back to her...

She buried the question she was longing to ask deep within, until she couldn't stand it anymore. Carefully, she took Iania's limp hand in hers, without expecting much reciprocation.

"Did you... Did you think you were going to survive it?"

Iania sighed listlessly.

"You told me that spear wounds are fatal in 80 percent of cases. I had to make a split second decision. So, I figured that I liked 20 percent better than death by asphyxiation, which was the other alternative."

"You actually listen to what I say...?" Maura Ilia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The thought that she had in some small way been instrumental in Iania's survival made her immeasurably grateful.

"Yes. Most of the time."

She mumbled something (something) so quietly that Maura Ilia wasn't sure she had heard correctly. But the icy feeling of fear told her she had.

"Of course you made the right decision. What do you mean?"

She heard the slight tinge of hysteria in her own voice, but she couldn't help it. How could Iania say something like that?

"You don't know what it was like, being back there. What I had to do."

Iania's voice wasn't even upset, it was listless, which was so much more terrifying.

"I had to shut down again. I didn't know how else to survive. I'm not sure how to come back from that. I'm not sure if I want to. What's the point of trying to appear human, when I don't feel it? They'll come for me and take you away from me again. And then I'll have to go back to being a monster. So maybe it's better just to be a monster all the time."

She looked up at Maura Ilia.

"I thought maybe you would come for me somehow, find some way... But I lost hope. I had to become who I was. No... Not who I was. Like Hoyt. I liked killing that gladiator. I liked it..."

Maura Ilia abruptly let her go and stood up, ramrod straight.

"No. No, you DID NOT! STOP saying that!"

The shouting got a reaction, albeit a subtle one: a dropped jaw and eyebrows high in the air.

"I SAW your face! I saw it..."

Suddenly, the fury was gone. She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

"I saw your face, remember? I saw your face when you thrust that spear through yourself. I have never seen such sadness on a human face in my life. You didn't like it. You were just trying to survive, as always. To the contrary, my darling... I would say that you hated it as much as you hated cutting the Achilles tendon on that man the first time I saw you. You just have very developed survival skills, for which I am extremely grateful, since I'm not sure I'd want to live if you didn't."

"I'm sorry I put you through that."

"Don't be. Just try to come back to me?"

Maura Ilia laid down and spooned her gently. Iania stiffened, but Maura Ilia refused to let go.

"I came for you, I looked every hour of every day. Please tell me you believe that."

She was crying against Iania's emaciated back now, against her sharp shoulder blade.

"I believe you."

"Please come back to me, promise that you'll try. Pleasepleaseplease..."

Iania sighed, a sad sound, rattling through her thin ribcage.

"I'll try."

Her voice was hollow. But Maura Ilia clung to the words like she clung to the broken body against her.

***

Maura woke up suddenly. It took awhile to isolate the cause: Iania's soft whimpering.

"It hurts..."

Her frightened voice broke Maura's heart. She didn't have to ask what the dream was about, she knew exactly what scene played out in Iania's head.  
Carefully, she leant over her and kissed her cheek, alabaster in the cold dawn.  
Jane's long lashes fluttered. She looked up at Maura with the eyes of a motherless child. The daggers were still pinning her to the ground. She turned her head, a frown of pain on her forehead.

"Sweetie, it's alright..."

She kissed her again. Her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. Just like she had wanted to when they shared a bed together that first night. She tangled her fingers with Iania's.

"I'm here..."

She had never seen her as fragile as this and she sensed that she was trying to regain composure. She didn't want her to, she wanted to take her pain on, show her that she didn't have to hide. When Iania tried to look away, she very gently caught her chin and made her look in her eyes again.  
Reluctantly, Iania snuggled close and buried her face in the crook of her neck. Maura Ilia took one of her tense hands and gently massaged the palm and her scar until the muscles relaxed. When she had finished the other one, Iania's breathing was deep and even. Maura put her arms around her and lay awake in the dusk as Jane drifted peacefully back to sleep in her protective embrace.

Iania looked self conscious when she woke up in her arms, but she didn't pull away. To Maura Ilia, it felt like the greatest of victories. She allowed herself some precious time just luxuriating in the feel of Iania's skin against her own and the gentle pressure of her head in the crook of her neck. She never wanted to move, but she decided that in order to change Iania's state of mind, she needed to change the state of her body. She caressed her back and cupped her neck to make her look up into her eyes.

"I think it's time we focussed on getting some of your mobility back. I'd like you to try to get out of bed for a little while today..."

Iania groaned and laboriously turned over in her arms, facing away from her. She could feel the reluctance, but steeled herself against compassion. She refused to let her mourn this precious life away. Gently, she pulled the covers off of them. Iania made a noise and pulled them back.

"Can't you just mind your own business, for once?"

"You are my business. Sometimes literally. Now come on. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Half an hour later, an extremely grumpy and childish Iania had been forced to walk once around the room, painfully bent over, leaning heavily on her, complaining constantly. Maura Ilia loved every minute of the grouching. Anything was better that the silent despair she had seen in her eyes since she woke up... When she had finished she was shaking and soaked in sweat.

She didn't comment on her sponge bath this time, but it was obvious that she was enjoying the attention and their closeness. After having the sheets changed, Maura Ilia let her lie back down for an exhausted rest.

Maura Ilia went out into the garden to read, wanting to give her some space, knowing that she wouldn't be able to refrain from touching her and risk waking her up if she stayed close to her. For the first time, she felt like the weight had lifted somewhat from her chest, making it easier to breathe.

Later that afternoon, she got back into her room and looked at the sleeping Iania, who had kicked off the sheets in the warmth of the afternoon. She was so thin... Her naturally warm skin tone was pale and transparent, like she hadn't seen the sun for months. Maybe she hadn't... She wanted to save the hard questions for later, when she was better.

Iania stirred slowly and and opened a sleepy eye. She had always had a strange sixth sense about her, being able to tell when she was in the room. She stretched, putting her arms above her head. She looked at Maura Ilia.

"What...?"

She tried so hard to fight the tears and actually succeeded. Except for the weeping of her vocal cords when she ran her fingers along her emaciated ribs...

"Baby... You're so thin..."

She knew Iania was naturally skinny, but all the wonderful softness and roses in her cheeks were gone. The fullness that she had worked so hard on and Iania had delighted in was gone... She was even thinner than when they had first met, when she had been trained to the point of sinewy, whipcord lean perfection.

Iania let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah. Being held captive by a killer and dying in the arena can do that to a girl. They don't exactly serve turbot in silphium sauce."

She smiled a weak smile.

"I guess I'll have to try fattening you up."

Iania looked back at her, brow furrowed with worry.

"You have lost weight too... Haven't you been eating when I was away?"

Maura Ilia smiled wryly at her.

"Don't try to turn the tables. You're not getting out of eating properly."

Iania looked sternly at her.

"I'm serious."

"I admit that I've been preoccupied..."

Iania felt a familiar ache in her chest. She hated having to hurt Maura Ilia and still, she seemed to do just that, over and over... When she (first) had woken up, she had hardly recognised that gaunt, worried face, matte hair in a simple braid and dark violet rings of exhaustion under her eyes. She made a mental note to ask about her sunburned skin. Patrician ladies were never suntanned, she wondered where she had been.  
She was still the most beautiful woman she had ever seen... The fancy dresses and the elaborate hair arrangements had nothing to do with it. It started to dawn on her how selfish she was being, wallowing in her own grief and fear without a thought to what this must be doing to the woman who had saved her not only once, but twice. She was still convinced that there would be a day of reckoning for her. As long as Carolus Hoitus was still alive and there were gladiator fights, she wouldn't be safe, she was too valuable a commodity. There was also the added problem of Maura Ilia's husband... But until that day, her job was to keep Maura Ilia safe and she felt ashamed that she had forgotten that for selfish reasons.

"You look tired. Come here..."

Maura Ilia sank into Iania's arms, feeling safe for the first time since she had been taken from her. She might be weakened, but she felt so strong as she pulled Maura Ilia close, careful to avoid pressure to her wound so she would have the stamina to hold her.  
She sank into an exhausted, oblivious sleep in Iania's arms, letting go for the first time since she was taken.


	9. Relief

A/N: after last chap I have been asked with... erhm... varying degrees of politeness ;) why I write this angsty stuff and not go straight to fluff? Fluff is great, but I do think torture, kidnapping and seeing the person you love almost die has an impact on you. So basically, I didn't want to be JTam and and just go "OH LOOK! MY PRETTY PONY, WHAT A FUNNY JOKE, NEVER MIND THAT PESKY SERIAL KILLER, THAT'S BORING, LET'S DRINK BEER FROM A CAN!" But fear not, there will be sweet stuff in this story too. Since again: I'm not JTam :) Hope you enjoy!

After that day, things became different. Iania attacked her recovery with the same determination she did everything else. Maura Ilia knew she was doing it more for her than for herself and that she still wasn't convinced she was safe or that this was the end of their trials, but as long as she was willing to try to heal, the rest they could work on.

She wasn't sure if she had imagined it or not, but she thought that she had even glimpsed... desire in Iania's eyes a few times. She had been so focused on keeping her alive that she almost hadn't had time to think about their interrupted erotic relationship. Almost... As Iania was getting healthier, putting on weight and regaining her strength, Maura Ilia found her eyes straying more and more often to her body and to her lips, remembering all too well how it had felt to kiss her...

As she returned to their room after handling some administrative tasks concerning the house, she found Iania with a naked upper body, washing herself in a basin, her wound still not settled enough to be soaked in a bath. She stopped and watched, feeling her heart beating very fast.  
Her feet decided to move forward. She stood right behind, leaned over her shoulder and silently inhaled her scent, heart thumping in her chest. She touched the small of her back lightly with her fingertips, a typical Iania move, something she used to do to catch her attention. It felt good when Iania did it. It felt good to touch her too... Too good.

Iania looked over her shoulder: looked at her like she used to. Like she could see inside her and see all her secrets. It made her weak in the knees. Looking into her dark eyes felt like free falling. The connection to this woman was the missing piece of a puzzle she hadn't known she was putting together. They shouldn't have been best friends: they should have been two incompatible strangers passing in the night, in a cruel world built to keep people like them apart. But instead, Iania had become everything to her. Nothing meant more than seeing the fire back in her eyes; it was the thing that first had drawn her to her in that shabby little cell.

Iania turned around and slowly snaked her arm around her waist, pulling Maura Ilia as close as she could without putting pressure on her still bandaged wound. The silk of her tunic scratched her hips lightly in the most delicious way. Suddenly, she didn't feel damaged, or broken... She felt alive, acutely alive. She looked down on the full, pink lips and the longing was so strong she thought she could taste her on her tongue, taste the memory of their first kiss.

Maura Ilia knew she should back off. There was a healing process to be respected. But the temptation... The temptation was so strong... She sighed when the soft lips touched hers and sank into the embrace, gasping as Iania's naked chest pressed up against the delicate material of her tunic. They backed toward the bed and Maura Ilia felt like the floor gave way underneath her. Only once had they kissed before, a kiss that had seemed endless but had a very definite finale: heartache and despair. The soft brush of Iania's lips was laced with the impossibility of them even living to see this day and yet here they were. She put an unsteady hand on her warm naked shoulder, needing the support.

Iania groaned as Maura Ilia kissed her back, the sensation of her velvety tongue against her own making her forget blood, metal and sand... She needed to feel her, feel all of her... She rolled her over on her back, the sudden motion making her yelp in pain. Her body was far from as limber as it used to be, the traitor...

"Are you hurting?"

"No."

She cursed inwardly. Who was she kidding? Even she could hear the pain in her own voice.

Maura Ilia sat up, turning into her doctor so quickly it felt like being thrown into an icy bath, when Iania wanted nothing more than for her to be her lover. She wouldn't look at her while she busied herself with checking her wound and Iania cursed silently to herself. She just wanted to heal, she was so sick of being this weak, not even being able to kiss the woman she loved properly.

Maura Ilia was mortified with her own behaviour. How could she have put pleasure first, jeopardising the healing process? She imagined what Tiro would have said if he had seen her... She promised herself that she would put all carnal desires away until Iania was back to her former strength, even if it meant keeping her distance.

***  
Iania had tried to get close to Maura Ilia again after that episode, tried to pull her into her arms or kiss her, but Maura Ilia had avoided her strenuously, refusing to respond to any of her overtures.  
It sowed a doubt, nagging at her. What if Maura Ilia had stopped being attracted to her after her horrific injuries. Who could want this ruined body... What if she was the only one still in love?

When Maura Ilia announced that she was finally well enough for a full bath, she was delighted. She did look forward to the scorching hot water and scrubbing the final traces of grime off of her, she had longed for it. But what she had truly been longing for was the rosy delight of Maura Ilia naked, her hands on her and the warm light of the bathhouse highlighting the fairness of her skin. She needed it. She needed something to make her feel alive again. And she knew for a fact that she had never felt more alive than when Maura Ilia moved under her hands, naked and sweaty in that luxurious bathhouse, bigger than her little house back in Greece, before she was taken. Not even during a fight to the death had she been more acutely aware of being alive. Maybe being naked together in the privacy of the bathhouse, Maura Ilia would give her what was constantly occupying her mind these days. Or at least respond to her in some way. She was aching for her, body and soul...

She heard her move around in the changing room and closed her eyes. She imagined how she would walk slowly towards her, with the innate sensuality she didn't seem fully aware of possessing and slide into the water. In her head, Maura Ilia whispered her name before straddling her in the warm water, a kiss coming soon after. Just as Iania's imaginary hand slid down to cup Maura Ilia's dreamed up perfect backside to pull her closer against her, the real version walked in.  
Reality was less sensuous. She was still dressed in her tunic and did in no way look deep into her eyes. To the contrary, she avoided looking at her all together.

"Maura... Join me?"

Maura Ilia didn't remember when Iania had started to use the shorter form, reducing it to just Maura, the fictional version of herself that she had liked so much, that night when they went to the shady caupona and met Iris and Amaryllis, when Iania had kissed her like her husband never had... She had to take a deep breath not to be sidetracked by her desire again. But she loved it, it made her feel all new, like she could be anyone she wanted to be...  
The tenderness in the veiled voice was heartbreaking and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself in her arms. But she couldn't. She wouldn't...  
Being in the bathhouse with Iania again was a delightful torture. She tried to focus on oils and water, steam and linens and not how her wet raven hair framed her long beautiful neck, calling out to be kissed by her, or the surprisingly feminine curve of her hips, so alluring to place her hands on. Or even more private places... She forced herself to recite names of the bones of the human body, uses for herbal remedies, anything that could take her mind off reaching out and touching Iania, her body still frail and tender, but so desirable to her starved eyes ... Maybe it was still wrong to want her, but she simply couldn't help it. She never could...

Iania assumed that Maura Ilia had tried to be considerate, covering herself up with a tunic in the bathhouse, like Iania didn't remember her naked, hadn't memorised every rosy inch of her, like her mouth wouldn't go dry at the sight of her swelling breasts through the increasingly moist and transparent fabric. Covering up and merely hinting at the beauty underneath made it harder sooner than helped.  
She could almost feel the wet fabric under her hands, tearing as she imagined finally getting to be skin to skin with Maura Ilia.

As Maura Ilia ran a sponge along her shoulder, Iania slid her hand along the soft arm and her owner stilled.  
She closed her eyes for a few precious moments and basked in the feeling of her hand moving over her skin. She indulged in the brief luxury of imagining Iania pulling her close, flush against her. She could swear she felt the phantom touch of her lips on her cheek and her hand lovingly stroke her hair. She imagined how comforting her warm body would feel against her own, her skin, her soft heartbeat...  
Maura had never accepted "I couldn't help myself" as an excuse for anything, but she was starting to feel like this was slipping out of her control... She smiled a tight lipped smiled and pulled away. Gently, but there was no mistaking the message.

After the bath, they had lunch in the gardens, Maura Ilia lying on her stomach on a blanket, reading a scroll, trying to ignore the effects of Iania's closeness. She did seem to be in better physical shape lately. Maybe soon...  
Iania put a warm hand on her ankle and tentatively, slowly, moved it up to her calf. It was a light touch, it didn't have to be interpreted as sexual...

"Stop it..."

Maura Ilia smiled softly, half scolding her and half longing, not even sounding convincing to herself.

Iania looked down on her and every hint of teasing or humor disappeared from her face.

"No."

Her hand kept moving, agonisingly slow up and down her calf, further up to the back of her knee. As she shifted to the soft inside of her thigh, Maura Ilia heard her own breath, ragged and wanton and tried to calm it down, tried not to sound as aroused as she was so as not to encourage Iania to go on. It was an interesting feeling for someone as self disciplined as her, feeling like there was no way she could break this spell, no way she could make herself say stop and mean it. Her skin was overheated, she was already so wet she was embarrassed to admit it and the distraction of being caressed made her thought process slow. She made a subtle, involuntary noise when the enticing hand slid even further up, sliding along the very softest part of her inner thigh, almost touching her core. She saw from the look on Iania's face that she had heard it.

"Sometimes I miss you even when we're together."

The statement confused her, until she looked into her eyes.

"I miss you too..."

Iania leaned down and kissed her, so softly that Maura Ilia found herself holding her breath while it lasted. She felt a slow throbbing sensation in other parts of her body and pulled back. She remembered only too well how pale and exhausted Iania had been last time they got carried away.

"I can't..."

Maura Ilia stood up, gathered her scroll and walked back to their room, away from her magical hands.

When she turned back around, Iania was in the doorway, her jaw clenched and her brow furrowed.

"Do you think you will ever want me again...?"

Iania looked deep into her eyes, her face serious, not covering up with sarcasm or avoiding the subject, like she normally might.

"Will you ever want to touch me like you did before they took me? If not, just tell me and put me out of my misery."

Maura Ilia sat up, gingerly on the edge of the bed and pulled her stola back up around her shoulders.

"You got it wrong. It's not like that."

"Then what!? You shrink away when I touch you like I disgust you!"

Iania dropped her tunic to the floor, standing naked before her. Maura Ilia literally felt her mouth watering at the sight, her body's readiness when she was close to Iania bordered on ridiculous. She closed her eyes to get a handle on her desire. But Iania wouldn't have it.

"Look at me!"

And Maura Ilia did, like a thirsting person seeing a tall drink of water in the desert.

"I know I don't look like I used to! Don't you think I know that? I have all of these horrible new scars and my skin is torn and twisted. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to touch this monstrosity." Iania disdainfully poked the thick red scar tissue on her stomach. "Or these!" Her lips curled in disgust as she put her palm up, now sporting a second set of red scars in the centre. "But I spent these last months thinking you might be in love with me, it helped me go on. If you're not, tell me, it's kinder. Because I'm sure as Hades still in love with you and this is breaking my heart!"

Maura Ilia took her scarred hand in hers and kissed them.

"I thought about how I wanted you when I changed the dressing on your wounds and when I monitored your temperature... It made me ashamed of myself. I'm medically trained, I should have been focussing on your healing, not on selfish desires. I had to turn it off. And now I'm afraid that if I turn it on again, I won't be able to stop myself. I don't want to touch you because I'm afraid I'll hurt you..."

Iania didn't let her finish, she sat down behind her on the bed and pulled her into her arms and held her tight.

Maura Ilia spoke softly. "I love your scars. They remind me that we got through this against impossible odds. They remind me that not even death did us apart. I want you so much I can taste you in my mouth. But I cannot and will not cause you pain and that's non negotiable."

"You're already causing me pain." She kissed her gently on the soft skin behind her ear, one of her favourite places on Maura Ilia, to take the edge off her words. Iania took her hand and put it against the knotted scar tissue and pushed. Hard. Maura Ilia gasped and looked over her shoulder, but Iania looked unaffected.

"Being deprived of you hurts more than that did..."

Oh, the irresistible juxtaposition of soft and and firm, curves and angles that made up this woman, the strength of her hands and softness in her eyes: in was inhuman to expect her to resist it. She answered the kiss that followed, breathing deeply through her nose to try to keep control and not get carried away. Maura Ilia willed herself to stop the involuntary movement, pushing her hips back against Iania's, but she couldn't.

"We should... Stop..."

"No we shouldn't. We really, really shouldn't."

"You need to heal, it will... hurt you."

"I want you so much it hurts already... "

She felt no guilt at pressuring her like this, she could feel the body against her humming with sexual energy. Maura Ilia was trembling when she touched her. She wasn't lying about the pain. The proximity to her without being able to touch her had been torture these last few days. She knew she was on her way back, her brain was already there and all she needed now was to wake this sad, broken vessel of a body, get it to come back to her. She willed it to give her what it had deprived her of last time: the woman she loved, her skin, her desire, her soft motion's increasing urgency. She needed it like oxygen and water.

"Lie down. Try to move as little as you can."

"I don't think there's much chance of that," Iania mumbled against her neck.

"I'm serious. Do as I tell you or I'll stop."

Iania reclined on the bed. Maura Ilia leaned down and took Iania's hard nipple in her warm mouth and swirled her tongue slowly around it. Iania gasped and her head fell back against the pillow. Maura Ilia rose up and looked down at her sternly.

"Will you do as I tell you?"

"Yes."

Iania's reply was immediate. Her suddenly compliant voice was even huskier and more veiled than usual.

Maura Ilia tried to force herself to slow down and savour this moment, running her palms over her strong shoulders, her narrow waist, her feminine hips, her angry red scar tissue. Iania was right: it was pain relief, it hadn't been this easy to breathe in months. She had already seen her naked more time than she could count: she wondered why it felt so different now... .

Maura Ilia's touch was a far better tool to keep her down than two sharp daggers: all Iania needed was a soft spoken word and those insanely arousing hands... She had to focus not to move, not to push against her hands, turn the tables, grab her and take her. Being passive didn't come naturally to her, but she would have done anything to ensure that Maura Ilia kept touching her, kept pressing her lips against her skin. It had never been her name on a piece of paper that made her Maura Ilia's slave...

Maura Ilia savoured the texture of her nipple in her mouth, surrounded by impossibly soft skin, as she bent down and took her breast in her mouth again. Her hand moved down Iania's firm stomach, grazing the edge of her dark curls. She saw the self control Iania was exercising to stay as still as possible. "Good girl..." she whispered softly in her ear, moving down to touch the inside of Iania's thigh, making her spread her legs. She let her hand rest there for a moment, watching her with a frantically beating heart. Head thrown back, chest heaving, her hands, fisting the sheet in a white knuckled grip, so focused on not moving too much and breaking the spell. It was by far the most arousing thing she had ever seen. Slowly, Iania opened her eyes, let go of the sheet and put her hands on her shoulders, monitoring her face for any signs of disapproval. One of her hands slid up to to the soft hairs at the nape of her neck and Maura Ilia shivered involuntarily from pleasure.

"I just can't not touch you, I'm sorry..."

"I know how you feel..." Maura Ilia whispered softly in her ear before kissing her deeply and swallowing Iania's moaning as she slid her hand against her folds, amazed by how wet she was and how maddening it was to feel her against her fingers, finally.

"Do you want me to...?"

Iania's "yes" was instant and Maura Ilia groaned as she pushed inside of her, the hot moisture on her hand and Iania's ragged breathing was so arousing, she felt like she almost couldn't bear it. The throbbing in her belly and her over sensitised skin bordered on painful. She had waited so long for this, her body was screaming for release, but she had to be careful, Iania was still so tender... But her gladiatrix miraculously seemed pain free now, as she slowly moved her hips against her hand, out of breath and sweating underneath her. She had to resist the urge to reach down and touch herself, just to relieve some of the tension. But she couldn't bear the thought of not having Iania bring her over that edge. But it would have to wait, she wanted to watch her first...  
She felt her muscle tone sing, her body trembling under her fingers. She slid out of her and circled her sensitive nub gently and then with increased pressure and took her breast in her mouth again. It didn't take long for Iania to get there, shuddering and contracting underneath her as Maura Ilia watched, enraptured, her raging heart making her bloodstream roar through her ears.  
She caressed Iania's sweaty brow and kissed her cheeks while she came down from her high, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself.

Iania rose up and unceremoniously pulled her tunic off. She licked the sweaty, hot skin on her chest and Maura Ilia groaned when she felt her warm tongue there. She didn't have the heart to scold her for not lying down anymore. Every muscle, every tendon on her body was tightened. Abstaining from doing this had made her a physical wreck and now she was coming apart. As she ground her centre against Iania's thigh, the gladiatrix reflexively grabbed her hip to pull her closer and Maura Ilia made a noise she didn't recognise herself, a wanton, needy noise.

"Am I hurting you...?"

"Gods no..." Maura gasped, then she started to laugh breathlessly at the question.  
Oh the irony in Iania asking her that... "This isn't how I sound when I'm in pain." she managed to get out.

"So it's the good kind?"

"Oh, yes..."

She stopped laughing, suddenly serious. She cupped Iania's face in her hands.

"There are things I want to do with you that I wouldn't dream of doing with my husband. I'm obsessed with touching you... Don't stop..."

"I want you to... I want to do everything with you... I'll never stop."

Iania's husky voice in her ear made her feel feverish with desire.

"Don't... Don't move. Just kiss me?"

Maura Ilia was teetering on the brink of her climax, the subtle friction of Iania's thigh against her underwear enough to drive her crazy in this aroused state.  
Iania did, but not her lips, she took her breast in her hot mouth and swirled an agile tongue around the areola before gently biting down on her nipple. Maura Ilia gasped at the sensation as she came so hard against Iania her muscles were in pain after her release and relief.

They sank back down onto the bed. Maura Ilia felt like she was airborne from the post coital high. She could smell herself everywhere on Iania's skin.

Iania langorously slid her hand down her back. She almost couldn't grasp how Maura Ilia had just come in her arms, how intense it had been, how good it made her body feel. She looked down in adoration at the tiny freckles on her chest, how her lips were red from kissing and how her usually so tidy hair was a mess. She was so beautiful and looked so serene that Iania's hard heart ached with tenderness. And she let herself have it, have this one perfect moment. Thoughts of tomorrow had no place here, no meaning now. There was just one thing missing. She looked down and frowned.

"Sweetie? Would you get naked for me?"

Maura Ilia nodded happily and shimmied out of the last garment, sighing in pleasure as she and Iania were finally skin to skin. Iania looked down at her as she laid her head back on her strong shoulder.

"Now that... That was worth dying for."

She arched an eyebrow suggestively. Maura Ilia smiled sensuously and caressed her scar gently. .

"Are you in pain?"

Iania chuckled.

"No. I'm OUT of pain. I'm not sure I've ever been this out of pain before."

Iania smiled that smile that was an inconceivable mixture of cockiness and tenderness, the smile that made Maura Ilia's insides feel like liquid as the starry eyes and dimpled cheeks made it impossible to look away. She didn't know why her heart was moving so fast in her chest until she realised that it was the first time that Iania had smiled since they had taken her...


	10. Access

AN: Hey guys. Thanks for all your comments, I know I totally suck for leaving y'all hanging for this long. Life has been crazy and work has been yadayadayada RL stuff. But I promise this story will be finished, last part is written. There will probably be 2 more chaps after this one. Sorry about the lack of plot in this chap, but hopefully you'll enjoy the other stuff. Thanks for staying with me, if you have. Mwah.

Chapter 10:

Iania gradually comes back to consciousness, for once feeling no need to grab a knife. She can feel in her stomach that there is no nightmare, nothing ominous about this early hour. She tries to identify the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She yawns and moves slightly. As Maura Ilia's perfect backside pushes into her hips and her nipple grazes her back, she gasps. Arousal. She is simply so turned on it borders on uncomfortable. Had she been a man, it would be clearly visible. She and Maura Ilia had never slept so close together before and her body woke her up to tell her how good it felt.

The scent of her skin makes her heart beat erratically. Sweet and flowery, remnants of perfume or scented oil, meeting with something warm and heady and arousing as hell. She can't pinpoint it: maybe it's simply uniquely Maura. She thought she would never get to touch her again and now she's drowning in the sensation.

She's torn between not wanting to disturb the sleeping beauty and her need to touch as much skin as possible. She takes one of the loose ringlets of caramel hair and lets it slide between her fingers. Maura Ilia mumbles something and scoots even closer, but she's seemingly still asleep. Iania simply can't help herself. She puts her hand on her hip and caresses the exposed skin with her thumb.

Maura's eyes flutters as she turns in her arms, mumbles something and smiles a sleepy, seductive smile. She s talking softly in her sleep, it sounds like something about evidence, but its hard to tell. She props her head up on one elbow and looks at her in the pale, tentative first light of day seeping in around the edges of the shutters. Her honey blond curls are in a messy halo around her head and there is a little frown on her forehead. Iania smiles gently. She recognises Maura Ilia's focus face, the same one she wore when she was considering the contents of a scroll, or inventorying her medical supplies. Even when she is sleeping, her brain is hard at work.

She can see her pulse beating fast on the creamy skin of her neck. Iania suspected that her brain woke her up early just so she could watch Maura Ilia sleep. Right now, she doesn't think she could ever get tired of it.

She softly mumbles something that sounds very much like "Iania".

"I'm here, baby." Iania whispers almost inaudibly, so not to wake her. She takes her hand gently and Maura stirs in her sleep and mumbles again.

"I love you."

It was almost inaudible, but Iania is suddenly wide awake. She had known it, she supposed, but hearing her say it is so different. She realises she is no longer alone, no longer independent and never will be again, as long as Maura Ilia is with her. There is so much more at stake now. She feels a wave of panic and elation at the same time as she hears the imaginary sound of another carefully constructed wall collapsing around her. No learned toughness is sufficient to protect her from the overwhelming sense of tenderness she feels. Maura Ilia buries her face in Iania's neck and sighs. A sleepy eye opens and looks towards the blinds. How she manages to see what time of day it is through those heavy things is beyond her, but there had been some sort of advanced explanation about shadows...

"It's dawn..."

"Sorry... It's your fault, you're irresistible."

Her hands traces her warm skin so easily and effortlessly, like it was far from the first time they did this only yesterday. She watches Maura Ilia's chest rise faster and faster, seeing a rosy flush spreading. Her nipples harden as Iania pulls the light cover down. She's still a little afraid of the heat of her desire, of how she wants to consume her, that her desire will make her touch less than gentle. But there are no demands for her to take it easy or lie still this time: Maura Ilia is quiet, apart from a tremor that goes through her as she moves her hand along the silky skin of her stomach, brushing against the underside of her breast. She doesn't try to take control back from her this time.

Iania tries to hold back, to give her addictive lover time to wake up. But Maura Ilia will have none of it. A restless, urgent kiss as she surges up to meet her, makes consideration a moot point. Almost subconsciously, her hand slides up to cup one of the lush, heavy breasts she can't seem to get enough of now that she's not reduced to stealing glances when Maura isn't looking. It's not enough, she needs to travel everywhere. This is her territory now: she stakes her claim with gentle fingertips, drawing a map of where she was going and where she's been.

This was what...? Their ninth kiss? Twelfth? There had been a lot of kissing yesterday. Heavy, sloppy ones during their first time skin to skin and sensuous, light ones, drowsy from afterglow when they were resting in each others arms, both feeling a little intoxicated from being so close. She had lost count. But when she kissed her for the first time today, she still had that feeling in her stomach, like she was falling. Maura Ilia mumbled something about having morning breath, but she just smiled and kissed her again. Maura Ilia was through objecting after that, looking up at her with heavy lidded eyes. She shifted over a little, so she was almost on top of her and pushed their hips together, sliding against her lover's already surprisingly wet center. Maura Ilia's soft, appreciative moaning tells her she's right there with her... Iania slides her fingers along her inner thigh, marveling at the softness of touching a woman there. A restless hand glides along her arm and lands on her wrist, softly but oh so obviously urging her on with it's appreciative caress.

She shapes her hand around her venus mound, stops for a few moment to feel the heat against the heel of her hand and the moisture against her fingertips, before she moves them through her folds so slowly, refusing to increase friction even though Maura Ilia's body is begging for it. After a while, she slides into her and caresses the soft, hot walls, feeling every ridge and curve. She closes her eyes as the wetness increases with every soft motion. She adores being inside of her, adores the connection, her lover's arousal. She would have made this last forever, if she could. If it were up to her, they would never leave this room. Feeling Maura Ilia's hot moisture on her hand, her heaving, full chest against her own and her soft sensual moaning in her ear could replace Elysium in her book any day.

It's so very light and Maura Ilia is almost coming from the very first touch and she just keeps on almost coming. Now her knees are trembling a little, because she's already so tense with the need for release and her skin feels scorching hot. And there comes that look, finally, that shows that Iania knows that she can't leave her hanging anymore... Maura Ilia groans and moves her hips against her hand, in a perfect rhythm to bring her achingly close. Iania kisses her, swallowing the groan when she slides further into her, filling her up, knuckles brushing against her over sensitised opening. But then, her motions cease, the heel of her hand stops its sliding against her swollen, aching clit and the strong fingers inside her are completely still. Maura Ilia whimpers involuntarily into her mouth. And then there's the tiniest motion, fingers brushing against her inner walls, a mere wiggling, she still stays deep inside. And then again. She feels it building and building and there it is, the moment just before, the second before Iania makes her come, and she has to close her eyes because everything's is so bright and her grip on Iania's shoulders hardens and here it is, now, the wave... She draws oxygen into her lungs like a drowning woman, contractions so powerful that her stomach aches from clenching.

Iania's smile is pleased on the verge of smug when she holds her afterwards, but Maura Ilia loves it. She will never get enough of Iania smiling, no matter how smug she feels. And she is entitled to that smile. Maura had never climaxed like that before, she has never reached that level of arousal before coming, she still feels like she's not quite connected with the rumpled sheets underneath her.

She's so tempted to go back to sleep, her eyelids are drooping. She lazily strokes a strong arm thrown across her stomach and notices the enticing difference in skin tone, kisses a discretely scarred shoulder and hears the involuntary sigh that comes from the shoulder's owner. It's all it takes for her to be aroused again. Gently, she pushes her onto her back, grabs a slim wrist and holds it gently above her gladiatrix' head. And then the other... She has to have her. Like she needs water, or sleep.

Iania has never felt this... soft before. Feminine. Neither of which she had allowed herself to feel in years. It's as if she were feeling herself through Maura Ilia's hands and finds that she liked the curves as well as the angles. She doesn't recognise the timbre of her own voice as she moans at the touch.

Maura Ilia pauses to look at her properly, lying naked on her bed, finally, skin flushed from arousal, breathing hard, eyes closed. Maura makes her open them again. The look in her midnight eyes and the feel of her soft skin stops her from thinking straight. Not thinking is such a luxury, such a rare occurrence. All she can do is focus on her body. She takes a deep breath: it's not something well behaved women would even consider, the lowest form of love. But she wants to so badly... She slides down her body and closes her eyes as she tastes her. She can hear her gasp as she kisses her there, licking up her wet folds, circling her clit, making her cry out as her warm lips and tongue make her tremble from arousal again. The taste is primal and feminine and the most arousing thing Maura Ilia has experienced. She moans as her tongue is covered in Iania, over and over again.

Her climax is glorious, a furious eruption that has Iania cuddled up to her former owner in utter exhaustion afterwards, a look of such complete contentment on her unguarded face that Maura Ilia can't help be the one with the smug smile this time.

She indulges herself and lets her eyes close again, Iania's warm breath wafting gently against the sensitive place behind her ear as they fall asleep, rosy fingered Eos having long since ended her journey along the horizon.

Waking up for the second time, she just about resisted giggling and waking Iania too, as she looked down and saw where her hand was. She was such a breast girl... She had trouble keeping her hands off Maura Ilia's assets when she was awake and it obviously was no different in sleep, her arm slung around her waist, cupping her left breast comfortably. She covered the hand gently with her own and stroked the pale scars with her thumb. The caress made Iania stir.

"Whazzetime?"

Still mostly asleep, it was something between a sound and a word. Maura turned around and snuggled into her sleep warm form. Iania held her tightly, resting her chin on the top of her head.

"Eight."

"Let's go back to sleep..."

Maura wanted to go back to sleep, she did. But she also wanted to wake Iania up properly to tell her that this was the most amazing, perfect moment... That she loved how she smelled of sleep and sex and...Iania and how nothing was as comforting as her strong arms around her. She wanted to ask her if it please could be like this tomorrow too... And tomorrow. And tomorrow and for all the mornings of the world?

But she didn't. She knew Iania wouldn't be able to answer honestly. She still feared she would be taken from her, that they weren't safe. She swore to herself in that moment, that whatever it took for them to be, she would do it.

"Without makeup, your eyelashes are the same colour as your hair..."

Maura Ilia looked up in surprise at Iania's choked up voice. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were definitely moist.

She wanted to tell her so much, has so many questions. But for once, she opted for saying nothing. She couldn't bear for Iania's answer to be anything else than yes.

The sun was high on the bright blue Pompeian heaven. They were still naked and hadn't left for anything else than nature calls and asking the servants for food. Maura Ilia felt deliciously decadent lying naked in bed, one arm casually flung over Iania's stomach and one of her legs resting between hers.

"So, you have how many losses then... Seven?"

"Eight."

Maura Ilia's forehead scrunched as she tried to find a unaccustomed flaw in her calculations.

Iania smiled softly.

"You're number eight. I tried so hard to not to fall for you. But I sure as hades lost that fight. There should be a ceremonial sword for you too."

Maura Ilia rolled over on her side and looked into her eyes.

"That was one fight I really tried not to win. Do you realise how confusing it was? I had never met anyone like you before..."

"Not many people have." Iania smiled a cocky smile and wiggled her eyebrows. But Maura Ilia had seen through her bravado long ago.

"What you were put through is wrong and disgraceful. And I shouldn't even be thinking about it, but you were beautiful in the arena, in your armour, acting like a raging Fury. I think I was attracted to you even then. I remember how I desperately I wanted to be the one to tend to your wounds."

Iania looked suddenly serious.

"Well, you did..."

She took Maura Ilia's hand and placed it over her heart, one of the few places on her body that had never been hurt or scratched and continued.

"I'm glad something beautiful came out of that mess..."

"Me too... So what do I get?"

"What do you mean?"

"I won, what's my prize?"

"How about a rematch?"

"The kind of match where we both win?"

"Definitely..."

Iania smiled against her soft stomach as she kissed her way down to the prize.

**'

"Do you ever intend for us to leave this room?"

"No, not really. I like it here. Don't you?"

"Yes... And I like it here..."

Maura Ilia kissed Iania's defined jaw, caressed the curve of her neck with her lips "and here...", resting her cheek against her impossibly soft breast "and I like it here..."

"I wonder what it feels like for a man to be inside of a woman", she whispered in her ear as she moved her hands further down.

"Don't. No man has ever made me feel the way you do when you're inside of me..."

Maura feels the slow burning fire flare up at Iania's words. She hadn't been fishing for confirmation, but she craves it badly now she knows that she will say it.

Iania is surprised at her own honesty, at making herself vulnerable, but for some reason, it felt OK.

"Really?"

"Really."

She gently cupped her, impossibly making her feel like she was ready to go again. And she was. There seemed to be no limits to her desire, no limits to Maura Ilia's stamina as her skilled fingers, bless her for being such a quick study, remembered that she was sensitive, that it didn't take much pressure to get her there, that she liked having her neck kissed and that sucking gently on her fingers made her eyes glaze over.

Afterward, when she was resting sated, head on Maura Ilia's shoulder, she looked up at her new lover with a pensive expression.

"This... What we're doing is considered a sin, even an abomination by others. Does it make you feel guilty?"

"Being forced to marry someone you don't love should be a sin. Taking the woman you love to bed shouldn't be. I didn't look for this and I didn't see it coming, but I don't think I've ever been more sure of anything in my life. So no. Does it bother you?"

"Hades, no."

Iania shook her head emphatically before lying it back down on Maura Ilia's shoulder.

She didn't give a rats ass for the public opinion. She could feel it in her bones: this was right and true. This was who she was, who she was meant to be and who Maura was meant to be. She knew it just like she had been able to tell which opponent would break under pressure. That certainty had brought her to this moment, alive. She had no intention of questioning it now.

Later that afternoon, Iania had suggested a visit to the bathhouse and Maura Ilia conceded, even though she loved the scent of sweat, arousal and Iania on her skin. But if the rest of the day was anything to go by, that particular perfume would soon be replaced.

Iania had never really gotten anything she really wanted before. Never been granted full access to anything she desired, other than victories that made you feel like you were losing, blood mixed with sand and the forlorn moaning of your adversary trying to suffer with dignity as she twisted the knife. Being able to touch at will, love when you desired? The feeling was unreal. She stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed Maura Ilia's wrist. Slowly, she backed her up against the wall and kissed her deeply. Just because she could.

"We will get caught by the servants..."

Maura Ilia's voice tried to be reproachful, but failed.

"So? You never cared what I thought when I was your servant?"

Iania smiled a cheeky smile against her lips.

"But you're wrong. You were the only thing I cared about..."

Maura Ilia was suddenly serious. Iania kissed her again and started to slide her tunic up her thigh. She moaned softly in her ear, but still pushed her away half heartedly and pulled it back down.

"Take me inside?"

"Honey... I'd _take_ you anywhere"

"Oh, good, ever your terrible sense of humor is back."

But not even her sarcasm sounded anything but adoring these days. Maura Ilia sighed and subconsciously imitated Iania's customary eyeroll as she was dragged into the bathhouse.

Iania closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet smelling, heavy air of the quiet bathhouse. She smiled as she heard Maura Ilia's naked feet padding silently toward her. This time, she didn't have to imagine it... Her new lover slid into the hot water and unceremoniously straddled her. Reality is always so much better than fantasy, a real hand superior to a phantom touch...

"The first time we were here you called me pretty... The poppy made you very talkative."

She could feel Maura Ilia's lips smiling against her cheek.

"That wasn't the poppy, that was just me. The poppy was an excuse."

She kissed her sweetly and made her stand up. Using the strength that had surprised many adversaries, she yanked her omto on the edge of the tub. Maura Ilia looked down on her with veiled eyes and slightly parted lips, pink from kissing. Iania could taste her own desire in her mouth. She was still so hungry... The thought of feeling Maura Ilia against her tongue excited hades out of her... Her heart pounded so hard it bordered on uncomfortable. Her husband had been too much of a macho man to do it to her and she hadn't minded. Judging from his fondness for licking her face, she had frankly been quite grateful that he kept his tongue away from her genitals.

She kissed her calves, the back of her knee and the inside of her thigh: one of her favourite places... Maura Ilia was already breathing heavily when she kissed her sex, a soft, slow closed mouthed kiss, before she tentatively opened them and felt her against her tongue. Soon, she could taste her essence through the fresh water and remnants of scented oils. She moaned at the feel of Maura Ilia's rich, hot arousal. She loved the intimacy of it, the softness and the responsiveness of Maura Ilia underneath her lips. She even liked the white knuckle grip her lover suddenly had on a fist full of black curls: the slight pain it caused was the sweetest she had ever been in.

Maura Ilia's moaning reverberated in the bathhouses excellent acoustic environment as she responded to Iania's mouth and her agile tongue sliding into her, like kindling to fire.

"Domina? Are you quite alright?"

An unsteady voice, the timbre of an old man, suddenly broke the trance.

Iania sat up with a look of sheer terror on her face, but she realised it was an illusion and the old servant was still outside the bath chambers.

Maura Ilia carefully cleared her throat.

"Thank you Kritikos. I just stubbed my toe on something, I'm fine."

"You sounded like you were in pain, do you require help?"

"That won't be necessary, I have assistance already."

She looked down on Iania's shoulders, shaking from laughter, biting her own hand to stay quiet.

As the steps of the old man became more and more distant, Maura Ilia let go of her self control and burst out laughing, Iania finally giving in too, howling with mirth.

"Maybe we should take this show inside again..."

Maura Ilia was suddenly serious.

"If you do anything right now other than stay right where you are and keep doing what you did, I'll never forgive you."

Her eyes narrowed as she look at Iania with a mock menacing look.

"That good, huh?"

"Less smugness, more action please."

"Yes, domina."

She used to hate when Iania called her that. Now she loved it, when her eyes were glittering with mirth and Iania was the one with the advantage. She groaned and threw her head back. As long as she keep moving her mouth on her, she was the slave.

Later that night, Maura Ilia ended the least productive day of her life and her happiest so far, by snuggling up to Iania's back and wrapping her arms around her waist. She made a contented noise against her neck and inhaled her scent.

"You know, technically, I should be the outer spoon. I'm a lot taller than you, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Don't be bossy. I like your back and you can be outer spoon tomorrow. And maybe even on top..."

Iania could feel her smile against one of her shoulder blades.

"Haha, very funny. But you're the bossy one..."

She could never say no to Maura Ilia, she had tried it and failed. That's why she was still on this side of the river Styx, even though she had had the coin to pay the ferryman.


	11. August 22

AN: Hi! This chap is unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine and there will be mistakes, I'm very poor proofreader of my own stuff. Sorry guys! Feel free to point out any mistakes/typos, seriously. Hope it won't detract from your reading pleasure.

Maura Ilia had finally reluctantly managed to persuade Iania that they needed to leave the house. Her intentions were to show her companions in the search for Iania that she was back, safe and sound, but also to keep searching for a resolution. She needed to see Gelus Fastidiosus to ask him to keep digging on her behalf and find a way to stop Carolus Hoitus from doing to others what he had done to Iania. She had not voiced the latter in so many words. She didn't know how her new lover would react to her potentially putting herself in danger while pursuing the truth, which was probably ugly. The truth so often was.

She still had the dead gladiator with the Medusas necklace pattern around his neck in the back of her head. What had happened to him and who had killed him if it wasn't Carolus Hoitus? And was Carolus Hoitus obsession with Iania connected with her somehow, even before they met? She hadn't imagined the suggestive tone of the madman when she saw him, she was certain of it.

It was so tempting to just stay here safely tucked away. But if they were to truly be free, they had to find closure. And somewhere in there was probably the death of Carolus Hoitus, she knew that, even if she had never before in her life entertained the idea of killing a living being, it wasn't who she was... But it might be who she had to become. Anything. That was the silent promise she had made herself.

As Maura Ilia was getting ready, standing in front of the mirror, Iania quietly breathed her in. The familiar scent of her hair, the bath oil she had learned to recognise, her skin, known to her almost down to the tiniest component, even though Maura Ilia would probably have some theory on how that wasn't how the human olfactory senses worked. No matter, she was certain that the last few days had made her an expert on Essence of Maura. She imagined kissing the softness behind her earlobe... She smiled to herself. She was insatiable when it came to this woman.

Maura looked over her shoulder.

"Stop that..."

Her voice was full of honey and satin. Iania took a tiny step closer.

"What...?"

"Your thoughts are distracting me..."

"You can't hear my thoughts?"

Maura pointed to the mirror, that happened to show both their faces if they stood in just the right place.

"I can see them."

"I see. What am I thinking?"

"Something that we do not have time for right now... Delightful as it would be..."

She got up on her toes and brushed her lips against Iania's. The temptation to deepen the kiss was great, but the sooner they left, the sooner they got back home and she could take her to bed again, so she refrained.  
Iania's grumbling was mostly for show, she knew that. She must be dying to get out into the real world, she hadn't seen it in months. Maura Ilia had chosen a fine outfit for her, richly embroidered. She couldn't look anything like the servant she had once been, but no one would think twice about Maura Ilia moving around Pompeii with another well brought up patrician lady: it was expected of her.

Iania rolled her eyes and sighed all the way through the process of getting her hair done by Maura Ilia's ladies maid, who had done a fair bit of eye rolling herself at her dominas uncustomary lax attitude to her appearance for the last few months. Taking care of Iania hadn't demanded a great deal of styling and for the last few days... Well, let's just say that there had been no need for coiffure when your lover kept running her fingers through your hair and making a mess of it. Still, Maura Ilia had never felt more attractive than lying naked in Iania's arms with a bed head.

She had selected a deep purple tunic, weighed down with gold and made her wear a stola over it, even though Iania complained it was too hot for such a heavy garment. But Iania needed all the respectful veneer she could get, being anything but, as a slave and a gladiator. She finally lovingly tucked a demure but luscious matching silk palla around her temporarily tempered curls, framing her face and draped it in customary fashion over one shoulder before letting the rest fall along the length of her. Her eyes looked huge, decorated with black kohl and a golden shadow shimmering on her eyelids to bring out the beauty of her dark eyes. Maura Ilia felt her heart beat faster. Iania was gorgeous and had real no idea that she was. Under different circumstances, she might have been the mistress of one of the emperors actually interested in women, or of some other rich bastard with high demands. But to Iania, Maura Ilia was the real beauty, which made her all warm inside.

"Do I look stupid?"

"Don't you know? You look gorgeous, my friend..."

"Friend? I'd say we're a bit more than friends, wouldn't you?"

Iania pulled her close for a kiss that there was absolutely nothing friend like about. After two days in bed, you'd think she was satisfied or had gotten used to it by now, but no... She still turned to liquid in her arms. She had to force herself to push her away. And then she still had to return for another kiss, before re-applying Iania's lipstick herself, not wanting the maid to see what was obviously kissed away...

Maura Ilia elected for them to walk instead of using a carrier: where they were going, carriages were rare and she didn't want to arouse more attention than their obvious affluence already would.

She glanced over at Iania and laughed.

"Do you even know the meaning of the word demure? You walk like a prize fighter."

"As a matter of fact I do know, scroll mouth. There's nothing wrong with the way I walk."

"Not if you want to look like a prize fighter, no."

"I am a prize fighter. I've never heard you complain about the way I move before..."

She brushed her fingers against Maura Ilia's and heard her breath catch.

"In the bedroom, no... Most certainly not. Dressed as a lady with a gladiatrix' attitude? You'll blow our cover."

But her tone was soft and breathless and Iania saw the smile in the corner of her mouth. What turned Maura Ilia on was her, just the way she was, which was furiously arousing. She had been apprehensive about this outing for many reasons. But she couldn't bear to worry Maura Ilia again, she had gone through Hades to get her back. Now, her main concern shifted to whether or not she would be able to keep her hands of her lover all day...

"Hey there, Queen of the Dead! Where you been, love? We've missed yah 'round here!"

Iania realised that it was Iris, waving excitedly, sitting on a bench in the corner of the little square.

"Give us some honey, love!"

Maura Ilia embraced Iris with a natural ease, like she had been doing this every day. It dawned on her that she probably had and that's where the light tan and all of the freckles came from. She remembered the night in the caupona near the Nucerian gates, when they had first met Iris and Maura Ilia had wiped her hand after touching the counter, with a snowy white handkerchief, thinking Iania hadn't seen it. And here she was, trading jokes and smiles, being embraced by the ladies of the street and the gentlemen of the gutter. It seemed like Iania wasn't the only one who had made a long and challenging journey during these last few months.

"And who might this lovely lady be?"

Iania smirked at Rondus. He didn't recognise her all tarted up in patrician gladrags.

Maura Ilia bent forward conspiratorially.

"Rondus. This is my... cousin." She winked at them and looked immensely proud of herself, until Iania couldn't help it and burst out laughing as she saw the hives that started to break out on a Maura Ilia's neck, much fainter than usual. This was a very innocent lie, but Iania knew her...

"Yeah. I'm her... cousin." Iania pushed her veil back a little and smirked at them.

Iris' eyes were suddenly wide as saucers. There were some things about Iania that could be concealed and hidden. Her voice? It was not one of them.

"Well bugger me with a trident, you found her!"

"I did..." Maura Ilia smiled a heartbreakingly loving smile at her and for a few moments Iania forgot the others and lost herself in those hazel eyes.

"Good on yah, love! I think this calls for some wine, don't you Rondus? And not Stanilius piss either, I mean the good stuff!"

As Maura chatted animatedly with Iris, Iania leaned over and looked at Rondus.

"Thank you for looking out for her while I was away."

"Actually, she's one tough honeycake to chew, she didn't need much in the way of protection. We had her pegged all wrong. Nobody dared to mess with the lady with the big coin purse, friends in low places and the threat of nr 46 here returning..." Rondus pointed his thumb at her.

"47 now. Still: thank you."

"Ooh, 47. Now, that is something, Vanilla."

"Vanilla? Really, Rondus?"

"Bet you real tasty... Mhmmm. I do like me some vanilla."

"Shut your mouth."

But she smirked and drank from the cup he offered her all the same.

Iris whispered to Maura Ilia, the least effective whisper in the history of the world, Iania could hear it several feet away: "Is your lady as fierce in the sac as she is in the arena? Can't imagine you missing your husband with that to keep you warm..."

"Iris!"

Maura Ilia threw Iania an apologetic look, but couldn't keep the smile off her face. It was the second time she had ever seen a fierce gladiatrix blushing...

Iris grinned at her: "Oh, come on love, there's no point. In my line of work, do you really think that you ladies sharing a bed would get my knickers in a bunch? This ain't my first ludi, honeycake."

It was the first time anyone had acknowledged their relationship. Pluto, it was the first time they had publicly acknowledged being lovers themselves... She considered the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach. Happiness. It was always her primary reaction to anything to do with Maura Ilia.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Iris." Maura Ilia said primly.

"Good thing you ain't no lady then!"

Iris guffawed happily and shoved Amaryllis, who had joined the group and was now enjoying the joking at their guest's expense.

"Hey!"

Iania's dark eyes shot arrows.

"When I mentioned a certain oblong artefact..."

Iania glanced around her nervously.

"Do you mean a... phallus?"

"Come on, love, you can say it out loud, you're not in her neighbourhood now!"

Iris pointed to Maura Ilia, who smiled and looked as relaxed as if discussing sex toys and their sex life in the middle of a square was every day fare.

"As I was saying, a PHALLUS." Iris was trying to get her riled up, Iania knew that and she decided not to take the bait. "That one rattled off a whole scroll full of obscure facts about the origin of the phallus for recreational use in the bedroom and what materials different civilisations made them from and findings in Etruscan graves and whatnot. A regular lecture, it was. Judging from that, any whorehouse would be lucky to have her!"

"I'm sure it was. And they can have her, too. Over my dead body..."

Iania put her arm possessively around Maura Ilia's shoulders. Maura Ilia kissed her cheek. A chaste innocent kiss. Unless you looked into her eyes...

Maura Ilia felt her cheeks heating up at the thought of this morning... How Iania's llps and tongue had felt on her. And inside of her. She was so good at it that she had had trouble focussing on anything else ever since.

Iania bend forward, pretending to have found lint on the shoulder of Maura Ilia's tunic.

"I can still taste you on my tongue..."

She sat straight up and smiled a bright smile at Amaryllis, all starry eyed and dimpled innocence, like butter wouldn't melt.

"I need more wine."

Maura Ilia extended her cup, hoping it would cure her uncomfortably dry throat. She put her hand on Iania's thigh and gently moved her thumb over the soft skin underneath the silk. Iris winked and giggled, but she didn't even have the energy to pretend to be annoyed. She was sure that her desire was written on her face like an open book.

Suddenly, the earth moved. It wasn't a huge motion, but the quake was certainly noticeable. Maura Ilia frowned, distracted.

"I wonder..."

"What?"

"We had one of these yesterday as well. Several in fact."

"And here I thought I was the one responsible for making the earth move for you..."

Iania grinned at her.

"You were, my love..."

Maura Ilia smiled sweetly back at her.

"But there were also earthquakes. And I heard a rumour from one of the servants that there was something wrong with the water in the Aqua Augusta... I wonder..."

But she shook the thought. There were other things on her mind right now.

She paid a boy to go and find Gelus and had Rondo and Amaryllis distract Iania with tales of what had gone down in Pompeii while she was gone, who had been in a knife fight with whom, who had slept with the baker's wife this time and who had accidentally stepped in a tub of urine to be used for cleaning togas and kicked up a royal stink about it. Maura Ilia could see her keep a watchful eye on her, but she made sure she didn't hear as she told Gelus everything, quietly and efficiently.

"So, you understand, I need to know where Hoitus is at any cost and whatever you can find out about whether there has been any more killings or whether he's still kidnapping people to show in the arena. I need something on him, proof, so we can get him safely locked away and keep him from harming people.

"Why do I have the feeling that locking him away isn't the only thing you want to do?"

He glanced off at Iania, laughing raucously at something Amaryllis had just said.

Maura Ilia elected not to answer, knowing her terrible lying skills would expose her. Instead, she walked Gelus over to Iania and poured him a cup of wine.

"So this is the famous Iania. Pleasure to meet you."

"So you're the gladiator who can't stand the sight of blood..."

Iania smiled a teasing smile and Maura Ilia had the decency to look apologetic for giving away his secret. She got absorbed in a conversation with Rondus about some street children he was trying to help. When she looked back, Iania and Gelus talked like old friends, heads close together, nodding occasionally to some comment the other person had made. This had been a good idea. It was good for Iania to talk to someone who had the same experiences that she had, someone who literally understood what she was going through, not just tried, like herself.

When they got up to leave. Gelus walked over to her, nodded grimly and shook her hand. He didn't have to say anything, she knew this meant he was all in.

"Don't trust anyone until all of this is over."

"Don't worry, I won't."

Maura Ilia sighed.

"I'm happy for you, doc."

For the second time that day, she saw a gladiator blushing as she bent forward and kissed his cheek lightly. She had come to love these people so much, they had become like her chosen family.

She grinned as Iris and Amaryllis started to sing a lewd song at their backs as they were walking away. It was just their way of saying they loved her too.

They walked past a few big, straggly red flowers growing in the strip of clay by the side of the road. Iania crouched down and picked one for her. Maura Ilia smiled as she accepted it. Her big, bad gladiatrix was such a romantic. When they made love, she always wanted as much skin pressed against her own as possible and her lips rarely left hers. Apart from when they were busy elsewhere... She loved Iania's strength. Loved how she was unbreakable, even when hunted. The stubbornness, the fighting spirit, the refusal to bend, those were all character traits that Maura understood and could relate to.

As a conflicting emotion, she also loved it when Iania showed her soft, fragile side, like now. But if you looked at it logically, it sort of made sense: Iania had carefully picked a person who were loyal and who would never use it against her as an outlet for her emotions, allowing her to appear unbreakable to others. The pride she felt for being that person was immense. Private, occasionally socially awkward Maura Ilia, who had to invent her own regimen of immersion therapy to get past her social phobias, she was the confidante of someone like Iania, who she shouldn't have been able to understand. She put the flower in her hair, like only a peasant woman would do. But she was different now and she liked it.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Do you remember...?"

"What?"

"This is the place where you kissed me the first time. And that's where you... Where they..."

"I kissed you? Really? That's not how I remember it."

Maura Ilia smiled at her through the tears she was fighting.

"No?"

"Nope. Distinctly remember you kissing me first."

"I did, did I...?"

"Mmhmmm."

Maura Ilia raised a mock sceptical eyebrow and started walking away. Iania grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"Actually... It was more like this."

She turned Maura Ilia around and looked into her eyes.

"When I told you how I really felt, you looked at me and I thought my heart would stop..."

So did Maura Ilia. It didn't matter how many times she looked at Iania's face and into her eyes: it blew her mind every single time... Iania leaned in and Maura Ilia's lips parted slightly in anticipation. But instead, there was the softest of feather light kisses on her check and mischievously glittering eyes. But she might as well have kissed her on the mouth, with her tongue. The soft warmth of her lips made her want them everywhere. She took Iania's hand and pulled her into a gap in the wall that led to a tiny abandoned yard.

"Really...?"

"Really."

Maura Ilia pulled her close and kissed her in a way that was anything but light. Apparently, a few hours without Iania's lips on hers was all she could take. Iania moaned into her mouth and didn't seem to mind the hard stone wall behind her back as she pushed their hips together.

"I love you..."

"I love you."

Maura Ilia whispered it against Iania's lips, too impatient to remove them.

Iania was so caught up in what she was doing that she almost didn't see the shadow darkening the doorway. It was a coincidence that she glanced over Maura Ilia's shoulder.

The difference in how Iania felt against her was so immediate that Maura Ilia stopped in the middle of a motion. Iania's hand was suddenly digging into her shoulder on the verge of painful.

"What...?"

"We need to get home, right now. I can't hold your hand, so just walk really, really close and fast, OK?"

She looked up into Iania's face and froze. She knew that face. Her heart was pounding in her chest for a completely different reason than arousal now. She nodded tersely and swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

As they were walking as fast as the uneven streets of Pompeii would let them, Maura Ilia looked at the woman at her side, no longer the lover she adored or the friend who made her laugh, but a gladiator in survival mode, one hand on her knife, eyes restless roaming their surroundings trying to anticipate risks, body singing with muscle tone. She knew that she would never really know this part of her.

A vendor made the mistake of approaching them. Maura Ilia had to talk soothingly and put her hand on her arm to make Iania let the terrified man go and take the knife from his throat.

As they got back, Garritius came walking down the street towards the house. Maura Ilia hadn't seen him in weeks and nodded curtly at him. To her surprise, Iania quickly stepped in front of her, as if to protect her. Maura Ilia noted how she felt for her dagger, hidden away again in the fine silk weave of her stola belt: nobody carried knives in the good parts of town. Her first thought was fear that Iania would blow her cover, she didn't want Garritius to know she was back. But that didn't happen. Instead, Iania's pose was fiercely protective of her, not herself. Something wasn't right. She stepped forward, gently but determinedly shaking Iania's panicked grip on her wrist. This was still a problem she was better equipped to solve.

"Garritius. What are you doing here?"

"Just picking up a few personal belongings, I won't bother you for long". His tone of voice was bitter and petulant, but that was to be expected under the circumstances.

"Who's your friend?"

"Oh, no one you know." She smiled coldly at him. It was true. Garritius had never even attempted to get to know his wife's only friend.

Iania had the good sense to duck her head and hide behind the anonymity of the veil partly covering her face. If Garritius realised who she was, he might sell her again. Or worse...

"I'll expect you to be gone before dinner and for you to remember that my part of the house is off limits."

He nodded curtly and entered the gates. She made herself stay in the street for a few moments to make sure he was gone, even though her heart beat in her chest like a smith's hammer. Iania's hand was back gripping her wrist now, but she didn't shake it, the pressure was comforting.

They hurried back to her bedroom, head lowered. Maura Ilia bolted the door. She spun around and looked at a visibly pale Iania.

"What are you not telling me?"

Her voice was hard, but she didn't care.

Iania put her head in her hands and groaned before looking up again. She took her hand.

"I didn't have the heart to tell you, I should have as soon as I found out, but you looked so happy when I got better, I couldn't bear ruining it for you. I'm sorry..."

Maura Ilia put her hand under her chin and made sure she looked straight into her eyes.

"I need the truth!"

Iania nodded grimly and took a deep breath.

"Carolus Hoitus partner in this venture, the financier of his slave raids, is most likely your husband. Sweetie, you can't live with him, not even close to him, do you hear me? I didn't tell you because I thought he was out of your life, I heard one of Carolus Hoitus henchmen say he was gone, I had no idea he was still in Pompeii."

Maura Ilia sat down heavily on the bed.

"Are you sure?"

"Virtually. Apparently, Garritius and his brother were overheard fighting just outside the arena, Hoitus' man said he found out about the whole thing. Maura... No one has heard from his brother Adamus since. I asked Gelus to look into it. You can't let Garritius into this house again, he's probably a very dangerous man."

Maura Ilia had been so distracted by Iania's tale that she had almost forgotten the incident earlier. Now it came flooding back to her.

"Iania... What did you see before?"

Iania tried to smooth out a frown on her forehead with her fingers. The tension behind the gesture was palpable.

"I know how this is going to sound... But it was Carolus Hoitus, following us."

Maura Ilia looked at her, jaw hanging.

"But... But it can't be, he thinks you're dead... Oh, darling, you must have seen someone else, someone who looks like him."

She smiled a relieved smiled and caressed Iania's cheek soothingly. But Iania stopped her hand and the look of sheer panic on her face made Maura Ilia's smile falter.

"There's something else I haven't told you. I... I hurt him. Just before my last fight. He likes to be underground with the gladiators, it's like he enjoys our misery. He tried to cut my cheek, the way he does to mark ownership and I just couldn't help myself. I burned him, Maura... I grabbed a torch from the wall and left him screaming on the ground, half of his face burned off. So it wasn't someone else, it was him. Thanks to me, Carolus Hoitus now has a very distinctive appearance."

"So Carolus Hoitus knows you're not dead... And that you committed an offense punishable by death."

"I would be sentenced to death, yes. Most likely in the arena... Ironic, right?"

"But with no weapons this time."

"No... No weapons. Even if I hadn't hurt him, It's against the law to kill yourself in the arena. And Hoitus is still my owner, technically."

"The fact that I paid for your body to be released probably means nothing."

She looked down on the ground. Iania's lack of hope seemed all the more explicable to Maura Ilia now. She had known all along that the sky was falling... Iania didn't have to tell her about the panic she felt at possibly having seen that man again, she knew it all too well... Suddenly, Maura Ilia was furious.

"How could you let me take you out into the street like that? If I had known your life was in danger, I would never have taken you, dressed up or not. Did you know Hoitus was back?"

"Honey... You have to believe me, I didn't."

"There is nothing even remotely IRONIC about this situation, I think the word you're looking for is HORRIFYING!"

She realised she was screaming loud enough for the servants to hear, but for once, she couldn't bear censoring herself. Iania leaned forward to take her in her arms, but she pushed her away. Her lover didn't budge.

"I died, Maura. I can't do it again. You woke me up... I can't pretend I'm dead again, I just can't. I need you.

She realised that Iania must have lived like this for years: every emotion mixed with a real and imminent threat.

Iania pulled her against her, hard, with eager, demanding hands. Maura Ilia felt her body betray her mind. Suddenly, she wasn't afraid, she was aroused. Iania roughly pulled her tunic down off of her shoulder, pushed her strophium down and slid her palm over her exposed breast. She was so alive against her, she could feel how she burned against her skin.

Maura Ilia willingly spread her legs for her rough hands and threw her head back as her tongue slid through her warm wetness. She couldn't imagine anything more worth living for than the feeling of Iania's silky tongue against her and the possessive love and desire that her firm grip on her hips spoke of.

Carolus Hoitus had taken what she valued most from her once: she had almost been robbed of this feeling, this closeness. She promised herself once more that he would never get that chance again, as she came against Iania's demanding lips.

Maura Ilia roughly reversed their roles, pushed her onto her back and slid her still throbbing sex against Iania's. Her hand hand wandered down between them when her lover crossed her legs in the small of her back to get more friction and she pushed into her without preamble, as much as she could take. Her lips never left her lover's as she ground her hips, making her orgasm hit Iania with the speed of an out of control chariot horse, grabbing Maura Ilia's shoulder hard enough to cause her the sweetest pain.

After a few moments of lying exhausted in each other's arms, Iania noticed how serious Maura Ilia looked.

"He might send someone else, he might not come himself."

Iania sighed.

"He won't come tonight, he enjoys us living in fear of him too much. He'll wait. Besides, we're safe here. Not even Carolus Hoitus would try to murder me in the house of the Farfilii. This place couldn't be more well guarded if it belonged to the emperor himself."

"Good thing we're not living in fear then, I wouldn't want him to enjoy himself."

It was crazy, but it was also true. Insane to the point of self destruction, but Maura Ilia almost welcomed this. At least now she knew what Iania had been afraid of. And she certainly didn't have to wonder where Carolus Hoitus was or what he was planning anymore.

Iania fell in love with Maura Ilia all over again in that moment.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

Maura Ilia caressed her cheek.

"My darling, if anyone deserves to have good things happen to you, it's you. The Gods owes you one. And so do I, for that matter..."

"I'm sorry... I left a mark."

Iania soothingly kissed the dark red discoloration her lips had left on Maura Ilia's milky white skin.

"I don't mind. I left some marks on you too... They're more permanent."

She caressed the twisted skin over her healed spear wound.

"That's not the only permanent mark you left..."

Iania took her hand and placed it over her heart.

She turned her head away and Iania noticed how the frown was back again.

"What...?"

"Did he make you... Offer the services you offered me, when you were back?"

She waited for the answer with baited breath, jealousy and hatred tearing at her even before she had heard the answer. The thought of Iania touching anyone else, being made to touch anyone else was enough to make her want to kill Carolus Hoitus again. Before, she had always regarded jealously as a sign of weakness, a petty emotion, but now she fully understood it and knew it would be a permanent part of her emotional life.

"No. He knew it wasn't safe. He couldn't be sure I wouldn't hurt them."

"I know now why you acted that way when I went to Garritius' bed. I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"I'm sorry too. I overreacted, he was your husband and I had no right. I was a bastard."

"If you felt anything like it makes me feel, you had every right. I want to hurt someone when I think about you with someone else against your will... "

"If it's up to me, I'm only yours for as long as I live."

They both knew what an inexact number that was.

Maura Ilia watched Iania fall asleep, against all odds. She silently snuck out of bed and took a lamp and some scrolls with her to the garden, her favorite place. She was done crying. The time to make some hard decisions had come. At the last moment, she grabbed a scroll about earthquakes too, there was something about the earth moving that worried her this time.


End file.
